


Lurid Candyfloss

by occultclysms



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band), Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Circular Narrative, Diners, Drug Use, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Humor, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Organized Crime, Polyamory, Pulp, Robbery, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occultclysms/pseuds/occultclysms
Summary: “We should have shotguns for this shit,” Hongseok mutters.“I agree, but these guns aren’t ugly.” Hyojong holds his to his lips and pretends to blow smoke off the end before sticking it in his suit pants. Hongseok rolls his eyes and sticks his in the same spot. “How many are up there?”“I got no clue,” Hongseok replies, shrugging off any worries that they might be underprepared.“Then you’re a hundred percent right, we should have fucking shotguns,” Hyojong agrees.-alt; a hitman, a mob boss's wife and a gambler all come together under strange circumstances
Relationships: Kim Hyojong | E'Dawn/Kim Hyuna, Kim Hyojong | E'Dawn/Kim Hyuna/Lee Hwitaek | Hui, Kim Hyojong | E'Dawn/Lee Hwitaek | Hui, Kim Hyuna/Lee Hwitaek | Hui
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	Lurid Candyfloss

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off pulp fiction (1994) it's really close to the original movie, but the longer you read the more it diverges from the film. this fic is told out of order, so it can be a bit confusing at first, but just keep in mind the details and everything should make sense. once again, thank you to b for betaing this you're the best. plus I'm sure most of you probably know who i am considering how much I've been talking about this idea and how I'm the only one who stans triple h around here TT
> 
> tws !!!  
> \- violence  
> \- murder  
> \- blood  
> \- drugs  
> \- overdose
> 
> i think those are all of them (?) but if i missed on leave a comment and I'll add it ^^

**LURID [lu̇r-əd] adj.**

  1. very vivid in color, especially so as to create an unpleasantly harsh or unnatural effect.



**CANDYFLOSS [kan-dē-fläs] n.**

  1. a mass of pink or white fluffy spun sugar wrapped round a stick. a mass of pink or white fluffy spun sugar wrapped around a stick; cotton candy.
  2. something perceived as lacking in worth or substance.



_Oxford Languages_

**PROLOGUE — THE DINER**

It’s early morning in Los Angeles. People are already at Denny’s even at half past eight in the morning, but there aren't so many people that the place feels crowded. Just enough to bring in business, so that Denny’s doesn’t end up like most other restaurants in Los Angeles— bankrupt.

The smells of coffee, eggs, bacon and pancakes fill the air, with a side of cigarette smoke from a couple sitting in a booth under a wide window. 

Shinwon and Yanan, as they are more commonly known. But none of the people in the restaurant are going to know their real names anyway, so they don’t really matter.

“Are you sure? It’s way too risky, in my opinion,” Shinwon says in between puffs of his cigarette. Yanan isn’t smoking because he thinks it fucks with the way his breakfast tastes, but the longer he looks at Shinwon, the more jealous he gets. 

“You always need a bit of a push,” Yanan replies. “You always say how it’s too dangerous and you're done. But that’s not how you act once it’s done. Once we’re done you act like king of the world and it’s so _hot_ , but you have to know you can get there.” 

Maybe the lack of cigarettes really is driving Yanan crazy. He taps his fingers along the edge of the counter and Shinwon gives him a look, but Yanan counters it, forcing Shinwon to keep his mouth shut.

“I always say that, but I’m right—”

“—but you forget this the second we are out the door. You proclaim we should do this daily.” 

“Yeah, well.” Shinwon doesn’t have a good argument and Yanan knows it. He’s won this round, but another will come soon enough.

“You know what you sound like, angel?” Yanan asks. It’s a trick question. Shinwon knows Yanan will just tell him. “You sound like a duck.” Yanan makes three little quacks, causing Shinwon to break out into a smile.

“I sound like a sensible man, not a duck, but your duck impression is quite cute,” Shinwon admits and that’s good enough for Yanan.

A waitress walks up to their table with a pot of coffee and Yanan could cry, the coffee smells so good. 

“Do either of you want more coffee?” she asks. Shinwon shakes his head and Yanan slides his cup forward, watching gratefully as she fills up his cup.

“Thank you,” Yanan says, taking the mug right to his lips. The coffee burns and has no sugar or milk— perfect. After the waitress leaves, Shinwon lights another cigarette. This must be his fourth one since they’ve been in Denny’s.

“Okay maybe you’re right. It’s the same risk as robbing a bank. Actually you take less of a risk with banks. Federal banks aren’t supposed to try and stop you anyway, during a robbery. They have insurance, so why go through all the trouble to stop us when they can sit there and not risk _anything_.” Shinwon takes another drag of his cigarette, ash building up at the end. “I heard about this one one, walked into a federal bank with a portable phone, handed the phone to the teller, the guy on the other end was like, ‘we have this little girl and if you don’t give us all your money, we’ll kill her.’”

“Did it work?” Yanan asks, skeptical.

“Hell yeah it did! That’s what I’m talking about. No guns, no threats, just a phone and totally empties the place. No one lifts a single finger to stop him.”

“What about the girl?” Yanan takes another large gulp of his coffee, ready for the waitress to come take their order so he can eat some fucking bacon and eggs.

“No clue.” Yanan rolls his eyes, so this story is a bunch of bullshit. “But that’s not the point. The point is that they only needed a phone to rob a bank.” 

“A portable phone is nine hundred dollars nowadays and a gun is what, a few hundred including ammo,” Yanan points out.

“But that’s changing. Cell phone prices have dropped a lot since 1982 when they first came out. Back then they were nearly four thousand dollars. And the US just passed the assault weapons ban, which means guns are only getting harder to get,” Shinwon rants. Yanan taps his fingers harsher on the table.

“Sometimes I forget you read,” Yanan mutters and Shinwon looks pleased with himself. “But anyway, are you saying you want to rob banks?”

“I’m not saying I wanna rob banks, I’m just pointing out to you that if we did, this would be a lot easier.” Shinwon’s fingers can’t hold his cigarette anymore and so he stamps it out on a napkin, popping another in his mouth within fifteen seconds.

“So no bank robbing?” Yanan clarifies.

“Nah, all those guys are either dead or serving twenty to life. Neither of those sound to be much fun,” Shinwon comments. So then why bring anything up in the first place, Yanan wonders, but he bites his tongue.

“And no more liquor stores?” Yanan asks.

“The ownership of liquor stores is changing now. Less and less are owned by people who grew up here and I don’t want to go to jail because I can’t speak Spanish.” Yanan muffles his laugh. He really shouldn’t laugh at that, but the image is funny. Shinwon trying to tell someone to give him all their money but the guy is just _totally_ lost. Peak comedy for Yanan. “Yeah and murder isn’t really my thing.”

“I don’t wanna kill anyone either. But yeah, liquor stores are out. What does that leave? Day jobs?”

“Not in this life,” Shinwon says with a laugh and Yanan laughs along with him. They are stuck being criminals, so they might as well be the best criminals they can be. “Well, what about here?”

“Here? It’s a coffee shop,” Yanan points out.

“What’s wrong with that? People never rob restaurants, but they will rob bars, liquor stores, gas stations, you name it. But that’s how you get your head blown off. Restaurants, though, you can catch them with their pants down. They aren’t expecting to get robbed really.”

“I bet places like this you could cut down on the hero factor bullshit,” Yanan agrees. Maybe Shinwon actually has a point, just this once. 

“Correct. Just like how the banks are insured— these places are too. Managers don’t care, they just want to get by y’know. Waitresses are in no way gonna take a bullet for a register. Busboys, same deal. Neither of them really gets paid enough to give a shit,” Shinwon says.

“And the customers are only thinking about their food. No one is even worried about something like this happening. In a bank, you are at least aware of the possibility of something happening,” Yanan adds on.

“One minute, someone’s eating a Denver omelette, the next minute there’s a gun in their face.” Yanan smiles, Shinwon is a genius. This will work perfectly.

“Remember how in the last liquor store we stood up we got more money from customer wallets than the actual register?” Yanan prompts and Shinwon nods, stubbing out his cigarette early. There’s still another half he could have smoked, but now it’s wasted. But that’s okay— after this they will have plenty of money to buy cigarettes.

“Yeah, and restaurants have even more customers than liquor stores.” Yanan nods. This is perfect. Scanning the Denny’s, all Yanan can see are dollar signs over everyone’s heads. The staff, all going through the motions of their days.

“Ready?” Yanan asks, turning his attention back to Shinwon. “I’m crowd control and you deal with the staff.”

“Got it,” Shinwon replies. They both take out their .32-caliber pistols and lay them on the table. Shinwon looks at Yanan and Yanan looks back at Shinwon.

“I love you, Pumpkin,” Yanan says.

“I love you, Honey Bunny.”

And with that, they grab their weapons, stand up. Yanan on top of the table and Shinwon going back towards the staff.

“Everyone be cool, this is a robbery!” Shinwon exclaims and a murmur goes through the crowd.

“Any of you fucking pricks move and I’ll execute everyone one of you motherfuckers! Got that?” Yanan screams, loving the adrenaline that rushes through his veins. Good morning to him indeed.

**PRELUDE TO HYOJONG KIM & WOOSEOK JUNG’S WIFE**

An old gas-guzzling, dirty, white 1974 Chevy Nova barrels down a homeless-ridden street in Hollywood. Sitting in the front seat is Hyojong Kim and Hongseok Yang, both dressed in cheap black suits with thin black ties under long green dusters. Hongseok sits behind the wheel, uncaring for the speed limit while Hyojong watches their surroundings whizz by.

“You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?” Hyojong asks. It’s a rhetorical question, Hongseok has never been to Europe, but Hyojong can’t get Europe off his mind and Hongseok likes to talk with him about it. What else would they talk about?

“What?” Hongseok blows a bubble with his gum and makes a sharp left turn without signaling that would make an average man’s stomach turn.

“It’s the little differences. The stuff there is almost like the stuff we have here, but slightly off.” Hyojong replies. Europe had a fun way of making Hyojong think he had finally adjusted and then it would suddenly reveal some other strange European habit.

“Examples?” Hongseok prompts.

“An obvious one is with buying beer. In Amsterdam, you can buy a beer in a movie theatre, which you can’t do here at all. And it’s not some tiny beer, that’s basically pointless— it’s like a proper glass of beer fit for a man. Paris takes it up a notch and you can buy beer in MacDonald’s. I know I would go to MacDonald’s a lot more if I could buy beer there as well. Very smart marketing tactic. Speaking of Paris, do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese there?” Once again, Hyojong knows Hongseok has no idea, but it’s just for funsies, so what’s it matter?

“Why wouldn’t they just call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?” Hongseok asks. “Why change a perfectly good name if you don’t have to?”

“That’s where you’re wrong because everywhere else in the world, including France, uses the metric system, which means they don’t know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.” Hongseok nods his head, gum-smacking.

“What do they call it that?”

“Royale with Cheese, but they speak French so it’s technically _Royale avec Fromage_ ,” Hyojong explains. Hongseok tries to repeat Hyojong’s French, but fucks up and adds too many sounds, though Hyojong doesn’t care because French has too many letters for how many sounds are actually said.

“What do they call a Big Mac then?” Hongseok asks, clearly having fun with making fun of the Europeans and honestly, Hyojong doesn’t blame him— they are quite easy to make fun of.

“A Big Mac is a Big Mac because it’s an official name, but Quarter Pounder with Cheese isn’t the name of a burger. It’s just a way of describing one and descriptions can be translated. Like you wouldn’t have a totally different name if you went to France. You would still be Hongseok Yang. But one thing about French is they add all kinds of unnecessary shit to their sentences. Like Big Mac becomes _Le Big Mac_ for no goddamn reason.”

“Le Big Mac,” Hongseok repeats, but with no attempt of a proper French accent. “What about Whoppers then?”

“Didn’t go to Burger King, so I have no clue,” Hyojong replies, shrugging.”But I can do you one better— do you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?”

“Why would you put anything besides ketchup on french fries? Like cheese and chili are also acceptable, but with your setup there I’m assuming it’s awful.” Hyojong chuckles, Hongseok isn’t as brainless as he acts sometimes. Though three years away can certainly change a person.

“Mayonnaise.” Hongseok screams in anguish and slams on the horn, startling a flock of birds and Hyojong laughs. “Yeah, it’s totally nasty. They try to drown their french fries in the stuff so much, I think they must have a death wish.”

“That is the worst thing I’ve heard all week,” Hongseok mutters, pulling up in front of an apartment building. Must be where Jinho lives. Hongseok pops the trunk and Hyojong gets out first, anxious to grab his weapon.

Hyojong reaches instead the trunk and pulls out a .45 Automatic, loading and cocking his gun while Hongseok does the same.

“We should have shotguns for this shit,” Hongseok mutters. “They are so much nicer and honestly make the threatening a whole lot more fun.”

“I agree, but these guns aren’t ugly.” Hyojong holds his to his lips and pretends to blow smoke off the end before sticking it in his suit pants. Hongseok rolls his eyes and sticks his in the same spot. “How many are up there?”

“Three or four.”

“Counting Jinho?”

“I got no clue,” Hongseok replies, shrugging off any worries that they might be underprepared.

“So, five max then?” Hyojong clarifies.

“Possibly.”

“Then you’re a hundred percent right, we should have fucking shotguns.” Hongseok closes the trunk and they walk up the front steps into a courtyard with similar visuals to a hacienda but if a hacienda got a drug problem and stopped paying its rent. Hyojong and Hongseok’s coats drag on the ground as they walk.

“What’s her name?” Hongseok asks.

“Hyuna.”

“How did Wooseok and her meet?”

“I have no clue, however you meet people, I guess. She used to be an actress though,” Hyojong comments.

“Was she ever in anything I would have seen?”

“She starred in some pilot but I think that’s it,” Hyojong comments, glancing around at all the dying plants around him.

“What’s a pilot?”

“Well, you know the shows on TV—” Hyojong begins.

“I don’t watch TV,” Hongseok interrupts. That will certainly make this more difficult than it needs to be.

“Yes, but you _are_ aware that there’s an invention called television, and on that invention there are programs that are available to watch on it?” Hyojong asks sarcastically.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the way they pick the shows on TV is they make one show, and that episode’s called a pilot. And they show that one episode to the people who pick the shows, and on the strength of that one episode, they decide if they want to make more episodes. Some get accepted and become TV programs, and some don’t, and become nothing. She starred in one of the ones that became nothing,” Hyojong explains as they walk into the apartment building.

They walk through the reception area and pause in front of a dingy elevator. Hyojong presses the button and they wait.

“You remember Hyunseung Jang?” Hongseok asks. “Strong jawline, kinda twinky looking, smoked way too much weed.”

“Yeah, I think I know the guy. Didn’t he have like silver-purple hair at one point?”

“Yeah, but it’s been blonde for a while now. Anyway, Wooseok totally fucked his ass up. And _apparently_ it had something to do with Wooseok Jung’s wife.” The elevator pings and they step inside. Drab wood paneling covers the elevator, along with some random words scratched into the number pad. Hongseok presses the button for the sixth floor.

“What did he do, fuck her?” Hyojong asks.

“No no no, nothing that bad,” Hongseok reassures. “Hyunseung isn’t that stupid.”

“What did he do then?”

“He gave her a foot massage.”

“A foot massage?” Hyojong clarifies. There’s no way he heard Hongseok right. No one kills a man over him giving their wife a foot massage.

“Yes.”

“Like you’re sure there was no other sorts of funny business going on?” Hongseok shakes his head and Hyojong puts his hands on his hips, showing off the handle of his gun, still secure in his waistband.

“I’m positive,” Hongseok says.

“What did Wooseok do?” Wooseok isn’t exactly the most forgiving of men, but a foot massage seems like a bit much to justify fucking up Hyunseung.

“Sent a couple of guys over to Hyunseung’s place. They took him out on the patio of his apartment, threw his ass over the balcony. Dude fell four stories. His fall was broken by a greenhouse down below, and the damage caused him to pick up a speech impediment,” Hongseok explains right as the elevator doors ping open.

“That’s a damn shame,” Hyojong replies, taking his hands off his hips to hide the gun once again. They walk down the hallway, anxious to reach Jinho’s apartment. “I gotta say though— if you play with matches there’s always a chance of you getting burned.”

“What do you mean?” Hongseok asks, raising a brow. The two of them don’t tend to match up really on opinions, but they can always set those aside to work together.

“It’s just not smart to give Wooseok Jung’s new wife a foot massage. Set yourself up for success and not failure,” Hyojong comments.

“You don’t think he took it way too far?”

“Jang probably didn’t expect Wooseok to react the way he did, but he couldn’t have thought he would have got off scot-free or something.”

“It was a foot massage. That’s literally nothing, I give my mother a foot massage,” Hongseok counters.

“It’s not really about whether it was touching her feet or eating her out. It’s the fact that Hyunseung touched Wooseok Jung’s wife in a familiar way.”

“Those things aren’t anywhere near each other. They aren’t even in the same ballpark. One is a nice favor you do for someone and the other is oral sex.”

“I never said they were the same thing, Hongseok,” Hyojong defends. “I’m merely saying, do you really think Wooseok Jung would be forgiving and kind about the whole thing? ‘Oh, well it was _only_ her feet, I won’t get mad at all.’ No, you know Wooseok.”

“Foot massages still don’t mean shit.”

“Okay, but have you ever given a foot massage?” By now they’ve stopped walking to debate the ethics of foot massages, when they really should go and bug Jinho. Hongseok pauses for a moment and glares at Hyojong.

“Fuck you.” Then Hongseok is headed off down the hallway and Hyojong catches up no problem.

“Would you give me a foot massage— I’m kinda tired.” Hyojong bats his eyelashes and makes his voice as feminine as possible.

“Shut the fuck up. This is the door.” Hyojong glances at the door and yep, that's apartment number 49.

“What time is it?” Jules whispers.

“Seven-twenty-two in the morning,” Hyojong whispers back after checking his watch.

“It’s not quite time yet, so let’s hang here for a moment.” They step away from the door, but keep their distance the same.

“Okay, just because I wouldn’t give a man a foot massage doesn’t make it right for Wooseok to throw Hyunseung off a building over it. That’s not right, man. That motherfucker better kill me if he did that to me because if I’m still able to do fucking anything after that Imma kill his ass.” Hongseok scowls.

“I’m not agreeing with the guy,” Hyojong defends, holding up his hands. “But there’s _some_ meaning to it. I’ve given plenty of women _and_ men foot massages and there was always a meaning behind it. We all pretend it’s meaningless, but that’s half the fun. This sensual thing’s going on that nobody is talking about, but you know it and she knows it, fucking Wooseok knew it, and Hyunseung should have known better. That’s his wife, man, why wouldn’t Wooseok be protective of her?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re half a faggot,” Hongseok mumbles and Hyojong laughs. “You do bring up an interesting point though, but let’s put a pin in this and get into character.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Hyuna. Why are you so interested in the big man’s wife? Trying to fuck them both or something?” Hongseok asks.

“Quite the opposite actually. Wooseok is going to Florida and since he’s gonna be gone, he wants me to take care of Hyuna.”

“Take care of her? I thought you said you _weren’t_ gonna fuck her.”

“Not like that, man. Just show her a good time, so she doesn’t get lonely.”

“More like runaway,” Hongseok comments. “But anyway, you’re talking Hyuna Jung out on a date.”

“It’s not a date at all though. It’s like if you took a buddies wife out or something. All I’m doing is being a gentleman.” Hongseok stares at Hyojong, skeptical. “It’s not a date.”

Hongseok continues to just stare and Hyojong scowls, knocking on the front door of Jinho’s apartment. Someone opens the door and looks at Hyojong and Hongseok curiously.

“Hey kids,” Hongseok greets. The two men stroll inside and the three guys inside, who are sitting around a table look caught off guard. Burgers, fries and drinks sit on the table. Hyojong and Hongseok take in the place, hands in pockets as they stroll around.

“How are you guys doing?” Hongseok asks. No answer. Hongseok turns to Jinho and asks, “Am I tripping, or did I just ask you a question?”

“We are doing okay.” Jinho swallows harshly and Hongseok smiles. Hyojong resists rolling his eyes at the whole scene. So over dramatic. Hyojong drifts behind the guys and into the kitchen, peaking around in the cupboards.

“Do you know who we are?” Hongseok asks. They better know who they are. Who else is going to show up at seven-thirty am, dressed in suits, ready to shoot.

Jinho shakes his head as he says, “No.” Neither of the other guys have a comment.

“We’re associates of your business partner Wooseok Jung. Do you remember Wooseok?” No answer once again. “Okay, well, let me take a wild guess. You must be Jinho, right?”

“I’m Jinho.”

“I thought so. So, do you remember Wooseok Jung or not?”

“I remember him, yes.”

“Good for you. It seems that me and Hyojong caught you at breakfast, sorry about that. What are you eating though?” Hongseok asks. Anyone could clearly see that they are all eating burgers, but there must be something to be said about intimidation or whatever it is that Hongseok does.

“Hamburgers.” Jinho doesn’t say anything, but he must feel the same way that Hyojong feels— the burgers are right in front of them. Why’s Hongseok asking about them?

“Hamburgers,” Hongseok repeats. “The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kind are these?”

“Cheeseburgers.” What is a hamburger without cheese? This is American for fucks sake and cheese belongs on hamburgers as a staple.

“No, I meant where did you buy them from?” Hongseok clarifies.

“Big Kahuna Burger.”

“Isn’t that the Hawaiian burger joint? I’ve heard great things about their burgers, haven’t you, Hyojong?” Hyojong hums, busying looking through Jinho’s cabinets. “I have never tried one myself, sadly. Could I sneak a bite of yours then?”

“Yeah.” Jinho pushes his burger forwards and Hongseok takes a huge bite out of it.

“Hyojong, do you want a bite of this? It’s truly delicious.” Hyojong doesn’t want a burger at seven-thirty-six am. He wants a coffee or waffles, but not a fucking burger.

“I’m not hungry,” Hyojong lies. It’s all about the theatrics, so it’s better for him to just let Hongseok make his big show about the whole thing.

“If you like burgers, you should really try one sometime.” Hongseok turns back to Jinho. “Do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?”

“No.” Well, most people don’t, Jinho, so Hyojong can’t really fault him for not knowing.

“Tell them, Hyojong.”

“Royale with Cheese.” Hyojong isn’t in the mood to do a shitty French accent in front of a bunch of people that’ll be dead in less than half an hour. It’s one thing to do when he’s explaining it to Hongseok, but Jinho and co. don’t fit the same criteria. Though, if they are gonna be dead, what’s the harm? Eh, doesn’t really matter.

“Do you know why they call it that?” Hongseok asks.

“Because of the metric system?” Jinho guesses. Looks like Jinho actually does have some brains on him. Too bad that his brains are going to splatter these walls.

“Check out the big brain on Jinho. Smart motherfucker.” Hongseok doesn’t even ask before picking up Jinho’s drink and taking a sip. “Is this Sprite?”

“Yeah.” Hongseok turns his attention finally to another guy at the table. “You, do you know why we’re here?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“Then why don’t you tell Hyojong where the shit is?”

“It’s under the—” The third guy tries to answer for the other and Hongseok silences him.

“—I don’t remember asking you a goddamn thing. You were saying?”

“It’s under the bed.” Hyojong moves over to the bed, reaches underneath it and pulls out a waterproof black snap briefcase.

“Got it,” Hyojong replies. But just to be sure, Hyojong flips the locks and opens the case. His vision transfixes on the inside. What they are looking for is most certainly in here. Hyojong almost can’t look away but forces himself to close the briefcase.

“We happy?” Hongseok asks.

“Hell yeah we are.” Jinho’s gaze flashes between Hongseok and Hyojong.

“What’s your name? I got that his name is Hyojong, but what’s yours?” Jinho asks. Hyojong snorts and picks up the briefcase.

“My name is Hongseok, but there’s no way you’re going to talk me out of blowing your fucking brains out right now.” Jinho’s face goes pale.

“I really just want to make it clear how sorry we are about fucking things up with Mr. Jung. We only had good intentions when this whole thing—” As Jinho is speaking, Hongseok pulls out his gun, pops the safety, and shoots the two other people sitting at the table. The shots send them flying out of their chairs and Hongseok never breaks eye contact with Jinho.

“I’m sorry. Did that break your concentration? Please, continue. I believe you were spewing a bunch of bullshit.” Jinho doesn’t say a word. “What’s the matter? Doesn’t matter anyway, you were already done. Now tell me what Wooseok Jung looks like.”

Jinho still doesn’t speak. Hongseok snaps and flips the table, removing the one barrier between him and Jinho.

“Where are you from?” Hongseok asks and Hyojong rolls his eyes. He’s seen this routine a few times before and it’s gotten a bit old if he’s honest. Though he’s the only one who has seen it and lived to see it again.

“What?” Jinho doesn’t even know what’s coming.

“I’ve never heard of a place called ‘what’ before? Hyojong, have you?” Hongseok asks.

“No, I haven’t,” Hyojong replies, leaning against the counter and picking at his nails with the briefcase resting on his wrist.

“What?” Poor Jinho, if you just stopped saying what this would improve his situation.

“Motherfucker— can you even speak English?”

“Yes.”

“Then you understand everything I’m saying?” Hongseok asks.

“Yes.”

“Now describe what Wooseok Jung looks like.” Hongseok is deadly quiet, standing above Jinho.

“What?” Jinho squeaks. Hongseok whips out his .45 and presses it directly into Jinho’s cheek. Jinho doesn’t make another sound, but Hyojong is sure the guy has just pissed his pants. Hongseok is a terrifying guy.

“I dare you to say ‘what’ one more time. Hyojong, tell our friend Jinho here what happens when someone says ‘what’ too many times,” Hongseok requests. Ah, yes, Hyojong’s role in this whole thing.

“People who say ‘what’ too many times die slow, painful deaths,” Hyojong recites.

“And no one wants that, so describe Wooseok Jung to me,” Hongseok finishes.

“He’s Korean—” Jinho begins.

“—go on,” Hongseok encourages.

“And he’s tall.”

“Does he look like a bitch?”

“What?” Jinho replies, not expecting that. No one is, and that’s the genius of it. Hongseok gives Hyojong a smirk before shooting Jinho in the shoulder. Jinho screams and convulses on the chair.

“No,” Jinho replies, in complete agony.

“Then why did you try to fuck him like a bitch?” Hongseok asks. It’s really not a very politically correct set up, but no one that’s gonna get offended is hearing it or gonna die in the next few minutes.

“I didn’t,” Jinho protests.

Hongseok lowers his voice and says, “You did though, Jinho. Ever heard of Robert Louis Stevenson?” Jinho shakes his head and Hongseok tisks. “There’s this one quote from him that I love: sooner or later, everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences. You fucked over Wooseok and now your consequences are us.”

Hyojong walks around the counter to stand next to Hongseok. With the briefcase in one hand and his gun in the other, he takes deadly aim at Jinho. Hongseok does the same and with an internal count of three, the two of them unload into Jinho’s body and skull, blood, guts, and brain matter splattering everywhere. 

**HYOJONG KIM & WOOSEOK JUNG’S WIFE**

Hyojong gets in his 1964 cherry-red Chevy Malibu convertible and pumps up the radio. Some surfer music plays out the speakers which is good enough for now. He doesn’t have to be in the car for that long anyways as he’s meeting Wooseok only a few blocks away at Sally LeRoy’s.

It’s strange pulling up there when there’s no topless women inside, just Wooseok and the bartender most likely. Hyojong doesn’t bother slowing down at all as he whips into the parking lot of Sally LeRoy’s and parks. The car is in three parking spaces and almost took out a white Honda Civic, but that’s okay.

Hyojong goes up to the front door and knocks. The entrance is unlocked and Hyojong lets himself in.

“Hyojong Kim, our man in Amsterdam, get your ass on in here,” the bartender greets. Hyojong can never remember his name and he always feels bad about it, but not enough to bother learning it clearly.

The club is spacious and much more open floor planned than Hyojong remembers. Maybe there was renovations or Hyojong was just distracted the last time he was here as that was during business hours.

The bartender crosses the bar and Hyojong mimics him, resting the briefcase on the counter, but not letting go of it.

“Where’s the big man?” Hyojong asks.

“He’s over there finishing up some business,” the bartender replies and Hyojong sighs. That means he’ll have to wait for Wooseok as he needs to talk to him about tonight.

The guy standing with Wooseok can be seen clearly if Hyojong leans his head slightly away from the bar. He’s shorter than Wooseok by a decent margin if Wooseok’s head blocks him because Wooseok is sitting while the other is standing.

The short guy shakes hands with Wooseok, hand looking almost crushed by the size of Wooseok’s.

“Hang back for a second or two and when shorty leaves, go on over. In the meantime, can I make you an espresso?” The bartender offers.

“How about a cup of just plain American?” Hyojong asks, vision coming back to the bar. The green, white and blue bottle of alcohol tempts him, but it’s only mid morning and Hyojong has some self respect.

“I can do that. I’ve heard a few things that you’re taking Hyuna out tonight?”

“At Wooseok’s request,” Hyojong replies. He’s not gonna let anyone get some idea that Wooseok is some sort of cuck; he’s still Hyojong’s boss after all.

“Have you met Hyuna before?” The bartender asks, dipping away to grab a mug.

“Not yet.” The bartender smiles to himself and Hyojong quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Not a goddamn thing.”

“I’m not an idiot. She’s the big man’s wife. All I’m going to do is sit across a table, eat some food of her choosing and laugh at her jokes.” Hyojong pauses. “And that’s _all_ I’m going to do.”

The bartender doesn’t say anything further, but places the mug and the pot of coffee in front of him. Hyojong would add on to his previous comment, but the guy Wooseok was dealing with comes up to the bar, looking pissed off.

“Can I get a pack of Red Apples?” he asks and Hyojong how there’s a slight lisp to his voice. He also notices that he isn’t quite as short as Hyojong thought he was. In fact, he’s taller than Hyojong, even if not by a lot it still bugs him. Maybe he should take Yuto’s advice as start wearing insoles. They’re lame, but the feeling of towering over someone who clearly has a stick up their ass about _something_ would be worth it all the way.

“Filters?” The bartender asks.

“Non.” While the short guy waits for his smokes, Hyojong sips his coffee, side eyeing him the whole time. “Looking at something, friend?” There’s a bruise under his eye and his lip is split. Both injuries look like they happened at least a week ago, but Hyojong isn’t a doctor.

“I’m not your friend, asshole,” Hyojong replies. The short guy looks almost ready to blow a fuse, but before he can Wooseok calls Hyojong over.

“Hyojong Kim has entered the building, get your ass over here!” Hyojong leaves his coffee on the counter and walks back towards Wooseok, making sure to hit the short guy’s shoulder on the way over.

Hyojong sits down across from Wooseok, finding himself in the position the short guy was in moments ago.

“Say, who’s that punk who came up to me at the bar?” Hyojong asks.

“That’s Hwitaek. He’s an associate of mine, but he really has such a temper,” Wooseok replies. Hyojong places the briefcase on the table and Wooseok smiles. “Thank Hongseok for me as well. But yes, about tonight?”

“Right,” Hyojong begins. “Everything should be fine.”

* * *

Hyojong waits in the front room of Yuto’s house. He’s staring at Jiyoon’s face, which really can’t be helped. She’s more metal than skin which is within her rights as an American— it’s just strange to see.

“…I’ll lend it to you. It’s a great book on body piercing,” Jiyoon says and Hyojong nods, realizing he missed half of her sentence due to being hypnotized by one of her eyebrow piercings.

Jiyoon, Hyojong and Jihyun sit around a kitchen table. Why the kitchen table is in the front room of the house, Hyojong has no idea. Yuto is a strange guy, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility for him. Hyojong isn’t really included in the conversation, but it doesn’t really bother him.

“You know how they use that gun when they pierce your ears? They don’t use that same thing when they pierce your nipples, do they?” Jihyun asks. She only has two earrings in each ear and clutches her breasts like they’re pearls.

“Forget the gun altogether,” Jiyoon replies, waving off Jihyun’s concerns. “The gun is an affront to piercing. Every single one of my piercings was done with a gun.”

“How many is that?” Jihyun asks, still not letting go of her chest.

“Nearly twenty eight,” Jiyoon replies proudly. “Seven in each ear, plus a bonus two in the right one, three in my nose, two eyebrow ones, one in my left nipple, one in my belly button, two in my lips and one in my tongue.” She has her fingers out counting as she goes. “That’s a total of twenty six. Plus, there’s like three others I was thinking about.”

“That’s insane,” Jihyun replies. Hyojong had no desire to join this conversation, but the comment about the tongue piercing got him thinking.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but I’m curious. Why would you get a stud in your tongue?” Hyojong asks. He only has a single earring in his left ear and it was a pain to get because he can’t stand needles. He can shoot anyone any day of the week, but a needle makes him afraid, what an oxymoron.

Jiyoon gives Hyojong a quick once over and says, “Every piercing has a purpose, and some are more obvious that others. I think it’s _quite_ straightforward what I use my tongue piercing for.” Hyojong tries to suppress his blush, but wow, she’s bold. Jiyoon is arguably right though. What else would you really use it for?

“Hyojong, you can come in now,” Yuto calls and Hyojong excuses himself from the table. Hyojong walks into Yuto’s bedroom and surveys the scene.

Yuto is in his late twenties like everyone Hyojong associates himself with, but Hyojong would avoid anyone who tries to tie the two of them together. Yuto’s appearance is something that is, at best, a head of it’s time. He only wears black, purple and red, and all of his clothes either have swear words or violent connotations on them. To add to the look, he has never been seen without eyeliner.

Hyojong has a few thoughts about Yuto that he would never say out loud, but kinda inherently knows are true. Number 1, Yuto has been selling drugs his entire adult life. Number 2, Yuto has never filled out a tax return. Number 3, he’s never been arrested, but is friends with cops.

Yuto and Hyojong stand at the foot of the bed and stare at the three baggies of heroin.

“Now this is Panda, from Mexico. Very good stuff. This is Bava, different, but equally good. And this is Choco from the Hartz Mountains of Germany. Now the first two are the same, forty-five an ounce— those are friend prices by the way— but this one…” Yuto points at the Choco. “…this one’s a little more expensive. It’s fifty-five. But when you shoot it, you’ll know where that extra money went. Nothing wrong with the first two. It’s really, really, really good shit. But this one is incomparable,” Yuto says. Honestly, he knows so much shit about heroin, it proves that there’s something up there. He could really have become someone if he applied that same energy to studying, but then Hyojong wouldn’t have such a cool drug dealer and no heroin for Hyojong would suck.

“Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam,” Hyojong points out, trying to suss out how good this shit really is. Because the shit in Amsterdam is on another level to the shit in America. Yuto looks personally offended and Hyojong resists rolling his eyes.

“This isn’t Amsterdam, Hyojong. This is a seller’s market. Coke is fucking dead as disco. Heroin’s coming back in a big fucking way. It’s this whole seventies retro. Bell bottoms, heroin, they’re hot as hell,” Yuto rants, using his hands to try and make his point clearer.

Hyojong takes out a roll of money from his overcoat pocket that could choke a horse to death. Strange comparison, but that’s the only way to get across just how much cash he’s carrying.

“Give me three hundred worth of the Choco. If it’s really as good as you say, I’ll come back for another thousand,” Hyojong says. Even if the Choco isn’t as good as promised, he’ll probably still be back because heroin is heroin and Hyojong doesn’t know anyone else in the area that will sell to him.

“I just hope I’ll still have some. It’s selling like hot cakes, Hyojong!” Yuto exclaims. “Anyway, what do you think of Jihyun? She doesn’t have a boyfriend or anything. I’ll give you a little extra something if you stick around.” Hyojong knows what Yuto is offering and on any other day, he would happily get high and probably hook up with some girl, but today is not that day. Once Hyojong leaves here, he has to go directly to Hyuna’s place.

“Which one is Jihyun? Is she the one with all the piercings?”

“No, that’s Jiyoon. That’s my wife,” Yuto replies and both of them burst into laughter at Hyojong’s fuck ups.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I have somewhere I need to be for dinner, but I’ll take a rain check,” Hyojong says, feeling around his pocket for his case of the works. 

“Not a problem,” Yuto reassures.

“You don’t mind if I shoot up here, do you?” Hyojong asks. Yuto probably won’t care at all, but it’s better to ask before busting his shit out. That would be impolite and that one person anyone doesn’t want to piss off is their drug dealer.

“Go right on ahead.” Hyojong takes his kit out of his pocket and rests it on the dresser, but they continue to talk.

“Still got your Malibu?” Yuto asks.

“I do, still in perfect condition since I put it into storage three years ago,” Hyojong replies, cooking his heroin. Once everything is ready and placed into the needle, Hyojong rolls up his sleeve to his elbow.

The tract marks aren’t too bad on him, considering how many years he’s been doing this, if he’s honest. The needle is right against the soft skin of his elbow, metal on flesh, and then Hyojong is pressing it into his vein. Blood comes back into the syringe and mixes with the heroin. Hyojong squeezes the plunger, emptying all the substance into his bloodstream.

* * *

Hyojong walks towards Wooseok Jung’s house and reaches the front door, only to find a note stuck to it. The note reads: ‘Hi Hyojong, I’ll be down in a few minutes, I just got out of the pool. The door’s open. Come inside and make yourself a drink. Hyuna.”

Hyojong pushes open the front door and takes in the house. It’s surprisingly chic for Wooseok’s tastes, but it’s not like Hyojong and Wooseok talk about designing houses in their spare time. Lots of white and lack of things, whether that’s walls, decore or color. Really not Hyojong’s speed at all. 

As he walks around, he comes to the conclusion that this house is like a hospital. Hyojong has no clue where the bar is, or the kitchen for that matter.

“Hello?” Hyojong calls. Where the hell is Hyuna?

“Hyojong,” Hyuna says, voice coming out of some overhead speaker system. Hyojong has no clue where she is, so he continues to wander around. “Hyojong, I’m on the intercom. Look to your left.” Hyojong turns and sees an intercom box on the wall.

Hyojong presses the intercom button and says, “Hi.”

“Go make yourself a drink, and I’ll be down in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” What does that even mean? Hyojong nods slowly and tries to make sense of Hyuna’s house layout. He had to walk up a set of stairs to get here and there’s a set of stairs going down to the lower level to his left.

Hyojong decides to avoid those stairs and walk through the living room and towards the back of the house. There he finds a minimal kitchen and a pantry on the left. On the right is a fully stocked mini bar.

Walking over, Hyojong nearly trips on his own feet. He pours himself a glass of whiskey and takes a sip. High quality stuff, but Hyojong wouldn’t expect any less from Wooseok’s personal liquor stash. And maybe if Hyojong wasn’t so high right now, he would refuse to drink his boss’s whiskey.

Who knows how long it takes a woman to get ready? Hyojong may wear a suit every day, but he owns four pairs of the exact same suit and by this point it's so repetitive that Hyojong doesn’t even need to think about it anymore.

Hyojong sips his whiskey and looks at a portrait of Hyuna on the wall. She’s really stunning, honestly. Congrats to Wooseok, Hyojong supposes. The music that Hyojong hadn’t even really noticed stops and Hyojong spins around to find Hyuna standing there, hand on the record player’s needle.

“Let’s go.” Hyuna’s dressed in an off the shoulder blue-purple dress that barely covers her ass, the skirt’s layers swishing as she walks, matched with chunky pearlescent heels. Her hair is black and reaches her elbows. Oh, wow, girls.

Hyojong shakes away all of his nonplatonic thoughts about Hyuna and follows her out of her house.

* * *

Hyojong drives Hyuna to Jackrabbit Slim’s, a 50s diner downtown. Hyojong has been to a few places like this before and they are all the same. Same decor as an “Archie” comic book, same six things on the menu, same restaurant. He swings into the parking lot, nearly taking out another white Honda Civic.

But this is where Hyuna wanted to go and Hyojong won’t be denying her that.

“What the fuck is this place?” Hyojong asks, it's one thing to know about this place and it’s another to see the giant, neon rabbit that graces the top of it.

“This is Jackrabbit Slim’s. An Elvis man should love it,” Hyuna says.

“But I’m not an Elvis man,” Hyojong protests. “Are you sure this is where you want to go?”

“As of right now, yes, this is where I want to go.” Hyuna gets out of the car and Hyojong sighs, turning the car off and getting out. He catches up to her in a few strides and he holds the door for her as they walk in.

The inside isn’t as bad as Hyojong was expecting. Everything is still stereotypical and unimaginative, but it’s less lurid than he imagined it would be. All the people inside sit in the cut up bodies of 50s cars with blue tinged lights above them. The center of the restaurant has a giant dance floor that’s currently empty.

A fake James Dean walks up to them and asks if they have a reservation. Hyojong stifles his laugh. Who on Earth would actually reserve a table in this place.

“No,” Hyuna replies. Faux James Dean leads them to a table made from a 1959 Edsel. Not the worst car they could have picked, in fact Hyojong has a soft spot for cars like this. But it might also have something to do with the fact that this one is red, Hyojong’s favorite color.

“Hi, I’m Buddy, what can I get you?” asks their new waiter, dressed as Buddy Holly. Hyojong can’t help but notice his button that says, ‘Hi, I’m Buddy, pleasing you pleases me.’ Corny, but appropriate, Hyojong supposes. Hyojong hasn’t even bothered to look at the menu, but he basically already knows what’s on the menu.

“I’ll have a chicken sandwich,” Hyojong says. He may be a rough and tough hitman, but he enjoys lighter meals when possible. “And to drink I’ll have a Sprite.” Buddy writes down his order and looks to Hyuna.

“How about you, Peggy Sue?”

“I’ll have a burger with a five dollar shake,” Hyuna decides, placing her menu flat on the counter and splaying his fingers across it. Hyojong notices her perfectly manicured blue nails, but forces himself to look away.

“How do you want your burger done? And what flavor shake?”

“Rare as possible and chocolate,” Hyuna replies. Buddy walks away with their menus and Hyojong waits until he’s out of earshot to make his comment.

“Did you really just order a five dollar shake?” Hyojong asks.

“Sure did.” Hyuna rests her elbows on the table and looks at Hyojong, almost daring him to push the issue.

“A shake is just milk and ice cream, and in your case, milk, ice cream, and chocolate syrup. Yet you just spent five dollars on that when it's worth two at most,” Hyojong points out.

“Wooseok has plenty of money, what do I care if I spend three more dollars of _his_ money?” Hyojong is taken aback by her response. It’s one thing to use money excessively, but she really doesn’t seem to care at all which seems to make it a little bit more likely that she really did let Hyunseung give her a foot massage.

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Hyojong replies, suddenly guarded.

“Oh, calm down,” Hyuna says. “I can spend my husband’s money however I want because he doesn’t give a fuck. We could go by the fanciest Mercedez Benz you could find and buy it and he wouldn’t care.” Hyuna is almost hysterical and Hyojong bites the inside of his cheek.

“Forget I said anything,” Hyojong replies after a moment.

“Okay, what do you think of this place?” Hyuna asks. Hyojong looks around and sees that people have finally filled the dance floor and waiters that are trying their best to be dead celebrities. Overall, everyone seems to be having a good time.

“It’s like a wax museum with a pulse,” Hyojong concludes. “It’s really not my thing. I don’t see why we are hot for forty years ago when segration still existed, gay people weren’t given any rights and women could barely have jobs.” Hyuna gives Hyojong a curious look.

“I can see why you would be upset about segration because both of us are Korean, but the gay and the women thing…” Hyuna trails off. “Are you gonna tell me you’re actually gay and trans or something?”

“I’m bi and not trans,” Hyojong replies. Maybe its risky telling Hyuna that he’s bisexual because she’s the boss’s wife and could inflict influence over him in a way that would negatively affect Hyojong, but whatever.

“So you like guys and girls?” Hyuna clarifies.

“Yeah, but I’ve never actually dated a guy, only girls.”

“Then how do you know that you like guys?” Hyuna’s questions are ignorant, but pure intentions, so Hyojong will humor her a little bit more.

“How do you know you like guys?” Hyojong asks, flipping the question on her. “You look at them and think, ‘huh, that guy is good looking, I would want to fuck him.’ Or something like that at least.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Hyuna replies and Hyojong notices the little fire in her eyes. Buddy gives them their drinks and Hyuna thanks him. 

“It’s the exact same thing for me. Just I'm also a guy.” Hyuna takes a sip of her shake and ponders what Hyojong said.

“That makes sense. Congratulations for being bi then,” she says and Hyojong smiles, taking a sip of his Sprite. “Are you as picky about guys as women are or less picky?”

“Considering I don’t know like any gay or bi men at all, I am really not picky. I just want a good dicking down y’know,” Hyojong admits and Hyuna bursts into laughter.

“I’m glad we can agree on something then,” Hyuna says. Hyojong quirks an eyebrow at her and she waves him off. “If you think being married means sex all the time then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I would have assumed Wooseok is the kind of person to have sex a lot,” Hyojong muses.

“Oh, he does, just not with me anymore, but as we’ve established I have his money, so it really doesn’t matter to me that much,” Hyuna explains. “Anyways, Wooseok said you just got back from Amsterdam.”

“That I did. I heard that you starred in a pilot,” Hyojong counters.

“Yep, those were my fifteen minutes, and I don’t really care for another fifteen if you catch my drift,” Hyuna says.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” Hyojong has no clue what she means. “What was the pilot about though?”

“It was a show about a female gang leader in a dystopian world. Like corporations have taken over and now the only people who can stop it are me and these two outlaws I’m friends with,” Hyuna explains.

“What?”

“Basically, me and two hot guys fight to take back the world from the evil corporations. Add in some science fiction elements, stage names, and bam— a TV show,” Hyuna restates.

“Yeah, I got that. It’s just a strange premise for a TV show because aren’t the people making and producing your show corporations? Wouldn’t they not want to look evil or anything like that?” Hyojong asks.

“Why do you think we got canceled after one episode?” Hyuna counters.

“Fair point.” Hyojong eyes Hyuna’s shake. It might not even taste good, but he’s curious as to the taste since they are charging so much for it. “Can I take a sip of your shake? I’m curious as to what a five dollar shake tastes like.”

“Be my guest.” Hyuna slides the shakes across the table. “You can use my straw, I don’t have cooties.” Hyojong smiles.

“But what if I have cooties?”

“Cooties I can handle. Especially since all of yours are from attractive women I assume.”

“What makes you say that? I seem like the type to only screw supermodels or something?” Hyojong takes a sip of the shake and is actually surprised by how good it tastes.

“You’re quite handsome, I can’t see you fucking someone who’s not at least pretty, but anyway, do you like it?” 

“It’s actually really good,” Hyojong confesses.

“Told ya,” Hyuna says, taking the milk shake back.

“I still don’t think it’s worth five dollars though. Three and a half max, if you were wondering,” Hyojong replies and Hyuna hums in response.

They lapse into silence, sipping on their drinks and Hyojong begins to lightly tap his foot on the ground.

“Don’t you hate that?” Hyuna asks.

“What?” Did Hyojong zone out and miss something important?

“Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yap about bullshit in order to be comfortable?”

“I don’t know,” Hyojong replies.

“That’s when you know you found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence,” Hyuna conclude.

“I don’t think we’re there yet, but we only just met each other, so I wouldn’t feel too bad about that,” Hyojong says.

“Well I’ll tell you what, I’ll go to the bathroom and powder my nose, while you sit here and think of something to say.” Hyuna stands up and disappears around a corner in search of a ladies room.

While Hyuna is in the bathroom, Buddy drops off their food and Hyojong didn’t even realize how hungry he is. He takes a few bites of his food and looks around the restaurant. Before he knows it, Hyuna is back at the table sitting down. Her nose looks the same and she wrinkles it as she sits.

“Don’t you love it when you go to the bathroom and come back to find your food waiting for you?” Hyuna asks, but Hyojong can’t stop staring at her nose. Something is off here, and he can’t figure out what.

“We’re lucky we got it at all,” Hyojong replies slowly. “Buddy Holly doesn’t seem to be much of a waiter. We should have sat in Marilyn Monroe’s section.”

“At the very least, you could have picked a section that would have given us mutual eye candy,” Hyuna teases and Hyojong can’t help but smile.

“Would James Dean’s section have been better?”

“Yes, much.” Hyuna takes a huge bite of her burger and doesn’t finish chewing before saying, “Did you think of something to say?”

“I thought of something I wanted to ask you about, but I’m not quite sure it’s appropriate,” Hyojong says, not quite meeting Hyuna’s eyes. He really wants to ask about Hyunseung, but Hyuna doesn’t seem like she’d take to a question like that, though she has been wildly different from any other expectations Hyojong has had.

“Appropriate how?”

“It might offend you.”

“Try me,” Hyuna challenges and Hyojong signs, resigned to his answer. “At least it’s not mindless, boring, getting to know you chit chat. This is _something._ ”

“Only if you promise not to get offended,” Hyojong decides.

“Why would I need to promise that?” Hyuna asks. “If I get offended, it isn’t the end of the world. I’m a person with opinions and just because mine differ from you doesn’t mean that you’ll get executed or something.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Hyojong mutters.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hyuna is practically on the edge of her seat from excitement.

“Okay, promise you won’t get me murdered? I think that’s reasonable,” Hyojong pleads.

“That’s fair. Now spill.”

“What do you think about what happened to Jang?” Hyojong asks.

“Who’s Jang?”

“Hyunseung Jang.”

“He fell out a window. What about it?” Hyuna asks.

“That’s one way to say it. Another way is he was thrown out, he was thrown out by Wooseok. And even he was thrown out of a window by Wooseok because of you,” Hyojong reveals.

“Is that a fact?” This isn’t the reply Hyojong was expecting from her.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. I just know Hyunseung entertained you for a night and ended up dead, and I’m entertaining for a night and don’t want to end up dead,” Hyojong explains and Hyuna nods, sympathetic to the problem.

“Well, what did they think Hyunseung did that got him thrown out a window because other people have taken me out before and they’re still alive.”

“I heard that Hyunseung gave you a foot massage.”

“And…?” Hyuna looks like she’s ready for the other shoe to drop.

“That’s it.”

“You heard that Wooseok threw Hyunseung out of a four story window because he massaged my feet?” Hyuna clarifies and Hyojong can’t tell if Hyuna is about to laugh or yell at him.

“Yeah.”

“And you believed that?” Yep, she’s absolutely gonna laugh at Hyojong for being gullible.

“At the time it seemed reasonable,” Hyojong defends.

“Wooseok throwing Hyunseung out of a four story window for giving me a foot massage seemed reasonable?” Hyuna asks incredulously.

“No, it seemed excessive. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I heard Wooseok is very protective of you,” Hyojong defends.

“A husband being protective of his wife is one thing. A husband almost killing another man for touching his wife’s feet is something else.”

“But did it happen?” Hyojong pushes. A smile plays on Hyuna’s lips.

“What do you think?”

“Clearly, whatever I’m thinking is totally off from what really happened and that’s all I’m interested in.” Hyuna takes a sip of her shake, contemplating.

“I met Hyunseung only once,” Hyuna begins. “He shook my hand when we first met and then when he was leaving, I kissed him goodnight. But Wooseok never knew about that happening, so that isn’t the reason why Hyunseung got thrown out of a building.” Hyojong debates between asking about how Wooseok didn’t know or the real reason, but he doesn’t have to think for long as Hyuna speaks again. “Wooseok has cameras up around the house and outside, but there’s some blindspots and he doesn’t know about them. As for the real reason Hyunseung was thrown out of that building, no one has a clue except for Wooseok.”

Hyojong is about to reply, but is interrupted by Ed Sullivan who says, “Ladies and gentlemen, now the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the world famous Jackrabbit Slim’s twist contest.” Everyone, but Hyuna and Hyojong cheer. “One lucky couple will win this handsome trophy. Now who will be our contestants.”

“Right here,” Hyuna says, shooting her hand as high in the air it can go. Hyojong shakes his head. “I wanna dance.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I cannot overstate how bad an idea this is,” Hyojong says.

“I do believe Wooseok, my husband, your boss, told you to take me out and do whatever I wanted. Now, I want to dance. I want to win. I want that trophy,” Hyuna points out and Hyojong sighs. She’s right. She may not have had Hyunseung thrown out a four story, but she very well could have _Hyojong_ thrown out a four story window.

“All right.”

“Make sure you’re wearing your dancing shoes.”

“You asked for it,” Hyojong defends. He technically can dance, he just doesn’t like to, but he supposes this can be made to be an exception. Hyuna and Hyojong get up from their seats and make their way over to the dance floor.

“Let’s hear it for our first contestants,” Ed Sullivan says into the mic and everyone cheers again. “Now let’s meet them, why don’t we? Young lady, what if your name?”

“Missus Hyuna Jung.”

“How how about your fella here?”

“Hyojong Kim.”

“All right, let’s see what you can do. Take it away!” Hyojong and Hyuna ditch their shoes as per the sign on the edge of the dance floor and make their way to the center. Without the platforms, Hyuna is much shorter, but no less intimidating. The music plays and Hyojong is unsure of what to do for a moment, but Hyuna starts leading and Hyojong follows her movements, trying to make them just different enough that they don’t look like mirrors of each other.

At first, they are dancing something decently close to the twist, but then Hyuna starts to mix things up. Her hands make peace signs and she moves them from the center of her face out. That’s certainly not the twist, but if all bets are off, who’s to stop Hyojong from adding in some of his own moves.

Only diverging a little at a time, the pair soon start to dance to their own tune in a way. Hyojong doesn’t think that they are going to win at all, but he’s having a lot of fun. The song comes to a close and they are escorted off stage to put their shoes back on.

* * *

Hyuna carries the trophy in hand as Hyojong and her walk back to the car. Hyojong is surprised that they won and quite proud of the way things went. Hyojong clicks the locks on his car and is about to open the passenger door for Hyuna when he sees that someone has keyed his car.

“Are you joking?” Hyojong exclaimed. “I’ve had this car out of storage for less than five days and some sick fuck keys it.” Hyuna inspects the damages.

“Yeah, someone must really hate your guts. See if there’s anything on the other side,” Hyuna suggests, climbing into the passenger seat. Her side had been just lines to damage the car. Hyojong walks around to the other side and sees that his break lights have also been smashed in.

“That same sick fuck smashed my break lights!” Hyojong stomps over to his side where ‘cuck’ is scratched into the side. “I’m not a fucking cuck!”

“Wow,” Hyuna says. “Who did you piss off?”

“I have no clue,” Hyojong replies, climbing into the car. “Anyways, am I taking you back to your place now?”

“Our night is just beginning, Hyojong,” Hyuna says, swishing her finger in front of Hyojong’s face. “I’m aware you have just gotten some shitty news, but I think we would both have some fun at the casino nearby.”

“I think you’re right. I could use some gambling and alcohol,” Hyojong admits.

“That’s the spirit!” Hyuna cheers. She sticks her hand down the front of her dress and pulls out a black credit card. “I have Wooseok’s black card too, so this will be fun.” Hyojong rolls his eyes. She has a point at least.

Hyojong pulls out of the parking lot and tears up the streets of Los Angeles until he spots a casino. Gambling is technically illegal in California, but they have figured out some clever ways around that and how Hyojong doesn’t care. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to drive to fucking Nevada to gamble.

In the parking lot, Hyojong spots _another_ white Honda Civic there. This can’t be a coincidence at this point. Hyojong throws the car into park, but doesn’t get out.

“Hey Hyuna,” Hyojong says. “That white Honda Civic has been next to my car three times today and now my car is keyed. I think they might be connected.”

“So what? How do you even know it’s the same car?” Hyuna asks. “I see a million of those a day.”

“Okay, answer me this; what do you know about Hwitaek Lee?” Hyojong asks.

“I know he’s a professional gambler and has a hell of a temper,” Hyuna admits.

“I saw this car when I was at Sally LeRoy’s and ran into Hwitaek. He was a total ass to me. Then I see it when we park at Jackrabbit Slim’s, where my car was keyed. And now it’s here, outside a casino. I don’t think that’s just a coincidence,” Hyojong explains.

“Well, what do you suppose we do?” Hyuna asks. “I’m all up for smashing his car, but how do you want to do it?”

“Do you have anything sharp on you? I have my keys but I don’t think that’s enough,” Hyojong replies. Hyuna pats her figure, double checking if she has anything and shakes her head.

“We can always go gamble and steal something sharp from in there,” Hyuna suggests.

“Yeah, that’ll be good enough for me,” Hyojong says, sighing. The pair get out of the car and walk into the casino together.

“It’s so cold in here,” Hyuna whines. 

“I wasn’t the one who chose to dress you like that,” Hyojong points out and Hyuna pouts.

“Hand over your coat. You’re wearing a suit and a trench coat, you don’t need both.” Hyojong rolls his eyes but gives her the coat anyway. “Now let’s go play Blackjack and find out how good a gambler you are.”

“Don’t we need to get chips first?”

“Oh, yeah that’s true. How about this? I’ll go get chips and you go get us some seats at the Blackjack table,” Hyuna offers. Before Hyojong can even reply she’s gone. Hyojong has also never been to this particular casino before and has no idea where he’s going, so he drifts aimlessly until he’s in the center of the first floor. There’s a huge crowd of people around one table and Hyojong is curious as to the big deal, so he wedges his way so he can see everything and then he realizes what he’s looking at— a professional gambling game and right across the table from him is Hwitaek, looking much nicer than he did in the bar. Striped silk shirt, glasses, and an earring in his right ear.

Oh, this is great. The first gay guy Hyojong ever finds in Los Angeles is the one that probably can’t stand him the most. Though if he included all the people he’s killed, they would probably hate him more. But they’re dead, so they can’t key his fucking car.

The two lock eyes and Hwitaek’s nose flares in annoyance. Wonderful, just wonderful. Hyojong pushes away from the table, and finds himself face to face with Hyuna.

“Oh, hi there,” Hyuna greets, holding a box full of chips. “I got as many as I am legally allowed to buy.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“What’s going on behind you?” Hyuna asks, trying to lean around Hyojong to get a better look.

“It’s some professionals gambling or something. Nothing crazy exciting. I have no idea where the blackjack tables are though, so you lead me there,” Hyojong says, trying to get them away from Hwitaek because it’s really taking everything Hyojong has not to go over there and knock his lights out.

Hyuna leads Hyojong over to the blackjack tables and the two of them sit down. Hyojong isn’t really any good at blackjack, but he wins a few rounds here and there and the two of them are having plenty of fun.

“Hyojong, I gotta go powder my nose again,” Hyuna says. “Make sure to save my seat.” Why women even powder their noses in the first place baffles Hyojong. Hyuna especially has quite a cute nose, but whatever, her choice. Hyojong bids her goodbye and makes sure to keep his hand on her chair while she’s gone. Maybe he’s feeling a small semblance of attraction to her after all…

**PRELUDE TO SILVER PLATED POCKET KNIFE**

Hwitaek’s living room is bland. He’s a kid and doesn’t really care, all that matters to him are the cartoons on the TV. They are only in English, but that’s okay because Hwitaek is still learning. It’s only 1972 and he’s five years old. His mother on the other hand, barely knows any English and only speaks in Korean to him. That also doesn’t really matter to Hwitaek, but being able to understand his cartoons more would be nice.

There’s a knock at the door, which Hwitaek ignores. His mom says not to answer the door and he’s fine with that. If it’s not about his cartoons, he doesn’t care. 

“Hwi, stop watching TV a second. We have a very special visitor today,” Hwitaek’s mother says in Korean. “Remember when I told you that your dad died in a P.O.W. camp?”

“Uh huh,” Hwitaek replies. He has no clue what a P.O.W. camp is, but he knows it’s a bad thing and the reason he doesn’t know his dad.

“This is Captain Lee. He was in the P.O.W camp with your father.” A man who stands much taller than Hwitaek’s mom comes into the living room. Captain Lee must speak Korean as he nods to Hwitaek’s mom in understanding before bending down to Hwitaek’s level.

“Hello there, Hwitaek,” Captain Lee begins in Korean, American accent slipping through slightly. “I’ve heard so many things about you from your mother. I was a good friend to your dad during the war. War is an awful thing and I hope you never have to experience what your father and I did.”

What’s war? There’s sometimes mentions of it when Hwitaek’s mom watches the news, but Hwitaek doesn’t understand it at all.

“Your father and I promised each other that if something happened to the other that we would speak to the other’s kid. If I had died and not your father, he would be speaking to my son, Jinki. But they way things worked out, I’m here, talking to you, Hwitaek. I got something for you though.”

Captain Lee reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver object. Hwitaek tries to figure out what it is, but nothing comes to mind at all.

“This right here is the pocket knife that was first purchased by your great granddad. He got it during the First World War in a small store up in San Francisco. He brought it with him to Paris and kept it on him just in case. Thankfully, he didn’t have to use it, and when he returned, he placed it in his ice box until his son had to go off and fight in war. That’s your grandpa. He took it with him when we fought the Germans once again. But because this was the second time, we called it World War Two. Unfortunately, his luck wasn’t as good as his fathers. He was almost killed in war, but stabbed that knife right through a German soldier’s eye.”

Captain Lee makes a stabbing motion with the pocket knife and Hwitaek flinches. When did he flick it open? It must have been when Hwitaek was actually listening to him. The blade gleams in the light and Hwitaek wants to grab it, but resists the urge.

“And your father had a similar journey with the knife, but he wasn’t so lucky. He stabbed an enemy soldier in the eye, but the soldier clearly had one more left in him as he got your father with his own knife directly into the gut. But I took that soldier out and then got the pocket knife from your father. He wanted to make sure you had it, so I did everything in my power to keep it with me.”

Captain Lee hands the now closed pocket knife to Hwitaek. There’s cartoons he should get back to, but suddenly he doesn’t really care about those.

“Make sure to only use this knife for protection, Hwitaek,” Captain Lee warns. “It’s not to be used except in cases when absolutely necessary.” Hwitaek nods and gives a small salute to Captain Lee who smiles. “Best of luck to you, little guy.”

* * *

Hwitaek had finally started getting into his groove when he saw fucking Hyojong Kim pop into his sight from across the table. That motherfucker has some gall showing up here when Hwitaek is playing here.

He really could win this. Or at least get top three with the way he’s playing, but no. He has to get fifth. And there’s seven players left, so he just needs to hold out for a little while longer, then fuck up. Which is not that hard to do in gambling. All Hwitaek has to do is fold and he wins.

Hwitaek is beginning to hate gambling under Wooseok’s thumb. He can never do his best because his best isn’t consistently number one. Which is a bunch of bullshit, honestly. He's barely even listening to the outside world at this point. Finally zoning back into his cards like he was originally before Hyojong appeared for a moment.

It’s annoying, but everything is fine, everything is cool now. Nothing else unpredictable isn’t going to happen.

Hwitaek jinxed himself by saying that as no more than ten seconds later, someone is grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the game.

“What the hell?” Hwitaek shouts. He can’t fuck things over right now because he needs that fucking money from Wooseok. He also has half of it, plus the money he’s using to gamble which means that he needs to finish that fucking game. Looking up, Hwitaek sees the one person he didn’t want to see for the rest of the night staring at him: Hyojong Kim. “Who the hell do you think you are pulling me out of that game?”

“I need your help,” Hyojong says and Hwitaek’s mouth drops open.

“Well, get someone else’s help because I have like twenty seconds to get back to the table, otherwise I’m fucked,” Hwitaek protests.

“Well, we are both gonna get majorly fucked if you don’t help me,” Hyojong counters, shifting his grip to Hwitaek’s arm and dragging him towards the restrooms.

“What on Earth is going on?” Hwitaek demands, trying to pull back against Hyojong’s grip.

“Hyuna is OD-ing in the bathroom right now and I need to somehow get someone to help me revive her,” Hyojong says.

“Hyuna as in Wooseok Jung’s wife, Hyuna?”

“Yes! Now let’s figure out how to help her,” Hyojong says.

“She needs a shot of adrenaline,” Hwitaek replies. “I actually know someone who carries one who’s over at the slot machines.”

“Take me to them because if you’re fucking with me and she dies, then I’m dragging you down with me. Wooseok won’t care if you were directly involved or not, but if you get in my way so help me god—”

“Okay, I get the point,” Hwitaek interrupts. “Now let’s go.” Hyojong lets go of Hwitaek and the two speed walk, nearly sprint, over to the slot machines and Hwitaek jogs ahead over to Yuto, his drug dealing friend.

“Friends!” Yuto cheers. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Hwitaek and Hyojong spare a glance at each other for a second.

“I need your adrenaline shot,” Hwitaek says. “We have a chick who’s OD-ing right now and needs that to save her life.” All the blood drains from Yuto’s face.

“Yeah, I have one, but I have no idea how to exactly administer it. It’s actually kept just for me in the case that I OD and there’s someone around who does know how to use it,” Yuto explains.

“Do you know how to theoretically use it?” Hyojong asks, frantic.

“Yeah.”

“Okay great.” Then Hyojong is grabbing Yuto up from his chair and pulling him back across the large open room towards the restrooms. Hwitaek follows in close pursuit, having no doubts in his mind that Hyojong is serious about dragging him down as well if this goes wrong.

The three of them reach the bathroom in record time. Hyojong pushes open the door to the women’s room and Hwitaek’s eyes immediately latch onto Hyuna, who’s in the room. This is one of the two sections in the women’s room, so this part is carpeted and has small couches on each end with a table against the wall and a mirror above it. On the table are lines of what looks like cocaine.

Yuto is kneeling over her and has the adrenaline shot in hand, but looks hesitant.

“You gotta give her the shot,” Yuto says.

“How on Earth am I supposed to do that?” Hyojong asks, voice high and horse.

“Well, you’re giving an injection straight to her heart, but she has breasts in the way, so you gotta pierce through that. Which means you have stab this directly into her chest,” Yuto explains. He mimics the movement, not actually touching Hyuna’s skin at all.

Hwitaek can’t help but stare at her. Her hair is matted with sweat, eyes rolled back in her head, skin pale and sallow, and to top it off there’s puke dribbling out of her mouth. Truly a sight considering how she normally looks.

“I gotta stab her?” Hyojong asks, mouth dropping open. They are both kneeling on either side of Hyuna while Hwitaek stands by her feet. Looking down on all of them, Hwitaek is slightly frustrated.

“If you want the needle to pierce through to her heart, you gotta stab her hard. Then once you do, push down on the plunger,” Yuto says.

“What happens after that?” Hyojong asks.

“I’m curious about that myself,” Yuto admits.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hyojong stares at Yuto and Hwitaek can’t decide if Hyojong wants to punch Yuto or not.

“She’s supposed to come back like—” Yuto snaps his fingers for emphasis. “—that.” Hyojong lifts up the needle above his head in a stabbing motion. Hyojong looks at Hyuna and his face fills with fear. Fuck, Hyuna is fading fast, they don’t have time for this.

“Give me the needle,” Hwitaek demands. “Both of you are too scared to do it, so hand it over.” Hyojong looks reluctant, but Hwitaek snatches it with a scowl. Hwitaek comes down next to Hyuna and pulls the top of her dress down to get an easier visual for the spot he’s supposed to stab her. Her left boob pops out, but Hwitaek couldn’t care less about her modesty at the moment— she’s gonna die so she can suck it up. “Count to three.”

“One,” Yuto says. Hwitaek brings the needle above his head, making sure his aim is perfect.

“Two,” Hyojong adds on, voice shaking.

“Three,” Hwitaek finishes, bringing down the needle as hard as he can into Hyuna’s chest. He nails the mark and squeezes the plunger. 

Hyuna’s eyes pop open and she lets out the hellish cry of a banshee and shoots up into a sitting position. The needle stays stuck in her chest as she continues to scream. Yuto and Hyojong jump back, but Hwitaek stays and looks her over. Still looks like a hot mess, but at least she’s alive. Hyuna’s screams fade and she sucks in a huge breath.

“If you’re okay, say something,” Yuto says hesitantly. Hyuna, still heaving, doesn’t look at any of them.

“Something.” Hyojong collapses to the ground and nearly bursts into tears. Yuto looks immensely relieved, but Hwitaek doesn’t move at all.

“I’m very glad Hyuna’s okay, but I’m still fucked,” Hwitaek mumbles with a flat chuckle. 

“Why?” Hyuna asks. “Also what happened?”

“I’m fucked because I was supposed to lose that poker game and get fifth, but Hyojong over here got me pulled out, so I got seventh, or maybe last because I technically forfeited. So now Wooseok is going to kill me,” Hwitaek explains.

“Oh,” Hyuna replies. “I wish I could help you in some way…” No one says anything for a moment, the silence growing awkward. Yuto looks the most uncomfortable, while the rest of them are just trying to get a grip on what happened.

“Well, this has been fun, but also not really so I’m going to leave,” Yuto says, standing up, practically bolting out of the women’s room.

“Doesn’t that mean you’re gonna leave too then?” Hyojong asks Hwitaek, looking up at him from the floor. 

“My life is essentially over at this point,” Hwitaek points out. “I have to flee the fucking country or I’ll end up like Hyunseung— but actually dead.”

“But that’s wrong,” Hyuna protests. “You were just helping to save me, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the one that got you the adrenaline shot in the first place,” Hwitaek replies. “And you’re the only person that can even say anything to Wooseok, but I have a feeling he won’t like the fact that you OD’d.” Hyuna’s face fills with fear.

“Oh, god, he would kill me. I would be the one thrown out a window!” Hyuna says, freaking out.

“Me too,” Hyojong adds on. “I’m the one that let his wife OD. If I didn’t have that stupid heroin in my pocket…”

“I snorted heroin?” Hyuna shreeches. “Why did it look like cocaine?”

“It’s some fancy shit I got from Yuto,” Hyojong replies.

“Isn’t he the one that was just in here?” Hyojong nods. “I’m going to kill him!” Hyuna is on her feet in a moment, ready to storm out of there, but her legs fail her and she falls back onto the ground. “Okay, so I’m not strong enough to carry my own weight.”

“So we are all fucked?” Hwitaek clarifies.

“Yep,” Hyuna chirps. “Wooseok gets home in like four hours and I need to be back to normal by then or else I’m fucked.”

“He really doesn’t know about you doing coke?” Hwitaek asks. “Because if he knows about that you OD-ing would freak him out, but he should be glad we saved your life.” Hyuna shakes her head.

“He doesn’t know about any of it, and not to mention, I’m supposed to keep a certain image around him.” Hyojong sits up onto his elbows and looks at Hyuna. “I use his money for attention, but if I do anything out of line in front of him… he hits me.”

“That’s fucked up,” Hyojong says. “No man should ever hit his wife. Especially for a stupid reason like that.”

“Hyojong has a point,” Hwitaek adds on. “And look— if we are all screwed, why don’t we work together to get ourselves out of this situation?”

“Brilliant thinking,” Hyojong replies sarcastically. “Just what do you think we do smart guy?”

“I know!” Hyuna exclaims. The needle is still stuck into her chest with her breast exposed. Either she hasn’t noticed or she doesn’t care. “Hyojong aren’t you a hitman?” Hyojong nods. “Why don’t we just kill Wooseok?” Hwitaek and Hyojong look at each other and then back at Hyuna.

“That idea doesn’t seem half bad,” Hwitaek admits.

“I agree…” Hyojong adds on.

“So, that’s our plan?” Hyuna asks. “Because once we agree on it, we can’t go back on it.” 

“Yeah,” Hyojong replies.

“Then stick your pinkies in the middle.” Hyuna holds out her pinky and Hyojong hooks his with hers. Hwitaek sighs and hooks his pinky with both of theirs. “To killing Wooseok, that bastard.”

**LAST ONE STANDING**

Hyojong blows the smoke off his gun, pleased with the amount of holes in Jinho's body. Hongseok seems to be the same as he slips his gun back into his pants. They double check that the two other punks are staying dead and are ready to leave when the bathroom door bursts open.

A man runs out holding a silver Magnum, firing six shots in quick succession, all of them missing Hyojong.

"Die die die die!" he screams and Hyojong is about to laugh with Hongseok for the guy being a terrible shot, but Hongseok is crumpled on the ground. Hyojong and the man make eye contact and the guy tries to shoot more at Hyojong but no more bullets come out of the gun. When no more bullets come out, he looks at his gun, confused.

Hyojong aims his gun at the strange guy and asks, "Who are you and is there anyone else in this apartment?"

"I'm Changgu and no." Changgu looks like he's about to shit his pants and Hyojong understands his fear, but he really should have just stayed in the fucking bathroom. Hyojong unloads into Changgu's chest, every single bullet hitting its mark.

Hyojong turns his attention to Hongseok, but doesn't touch him. The life is gone from his eyes. Changgu nailed Hongseok right in the heart, and that's not the kind of shot you can just survive from.

Hongseok is dead.

Hyojong knows better than to touch his body, but he can’t help but be tempted to double check his pulse or anything. Just something to convince him that Hongseok isn’t actually dead. It’s not even that Hyojong and Hongseok were extremely close— it’s that he so easily could’ve been him. Hyojong could’ve been the one shot and it’s some sort of miracle that he wasn’t. Fuck, now he’s even _sounding_ like Hongseok, but maybe he had been right all these years.

This is so fucked. Hyojong grabs a napkin from the bag of abandoned fast food and uses it to open the door. Hyojong walks out of that apartment at seven-fifty-eight. Right on schedule, but now what’s even the point in sticking to the schedule. He gets to the car before remembering that Hongseok is the one with the keys, but Hyojong can’t go back in there. No way in hell would he do that. 

Looks like he’s taking the bus.

Catching the bus isn’t really an issue, but Hyojong gets some strange looks while on the bus. It’s not every day you see someone dressed like a cheap CIA agent with bleached out hair on the bus. But Hyojong comes to a few conclusions while on the bus.

First off, Hyojong has to get this briefcase to Wooseok as fast as possible. Wooseok had originally said just get it to him sooner rather than later, but he didn’t seem too worried about getting it back. Which makes sense in a way, he knows where Hongseok and Hyojong live, so if either of them fuck up, they might end up like Hyunseung.

All Hyojong is gonna do is get home, get into his car and drive right back the way he came. And it won’t even be a big deal because once the briefcase is out of his hands, he’s one step closer to not working for Wooseok anymore.

The next conclusion that Hyojong comes to is that this needs to be his last job with Wooseok. He’s not risking getting shot over a briefcase— even if the contents are worth a _lot_ of money.

But being dead outweighs the paycheck in the end. Most people would agree with that sentiment, provided they thought there was a super high risk of death with their job. That’s why the most dangerous jobs on Earth pay so much money. Miner, surgeon, hitman, all of these are well within the same pay range. But being a miner requires lots of physical strength and being a surgeon requires lots of school. Being a hitman requires the ability to shoot a gun with confidence and without remorse. 

Different people would rank those three jobs in different levels of preference. Hyojong is hitmen, surgeon, miner because he’s already a hitmen and doesn’t gain muscle mass easily. Plus, learning can be a fun experience.

Hongseok is already pretty buff, so he might be a hitman, miner, or a surgeon. Who would be a surgeon or miner first? No one. Maybe it’s just who Hyojong associates himself with.

Hyojong isn’t even sure if he knows anyone from his high school that became a surgeon or a miner. Though, no one from his high school also knows that he’s now a hitman.

Amsterdam feels like there would be lots of doctors there, but Hyojong didn’t run into any of them. Probably still has something to do with the crowds he hangs around.

Fuck, what’s gonna happen to Hongseok’s body? Are they going to autopsy him? Hongseok seems like the type to want his body preserved, not cut open. Even for science. Especially for science.

That reminds him, isn’t Hyojong going to have to tell Wooseok that Hongseok is dead? Who else would tell him if he doesn’t? Hyojong is the only witness to five murders, four of which he was partially the cause for. Cause enough hurt, the hurt comes back, Hyojong supposes.

So, that makes three things for the bus revelations list. Anything else that Hyojong needs to think about now rather than literally any other time?

Oh, yeah, he was supposed to take out Hyuna. Yeah, no way in hell is that happening. Hyuna is a sure and fast way to get himself killed. If Hyunseung was killed over foot massage, who’s to say Hyojong won’t get killed over brushing her shoulder.

Maybe he’s being dramatic and paranoid, but— the fears are founded this time. Wooseok doesn’t fuck around and that has been made clear.

The bus stops in front of Hyojong’s stop and he sighs, picking up the briefcase and walking out of the door. Now time to walk four blocks back to his house and change his life for the better.

**SILVER PLATED POCKET KNIFE**

Hiding in Hyuna Jung’s pantry at six in the morning isn’t really what Hwitaek wanted to do, but that’s what needs to be done. Hyojong told them about the briefcase and Hyuna told them where it is and Hyojong is supposed to steal it once it gets light.

Somehow Hyuna doesn’t have lights in her pool and Hyojong needs to be able to see to get the briefcase out from under the trap door. Hwitaek would have done it, but when he swims he can’t open his eyes, Hyojong can, so that’s how it was decided.

Which means that Hwitaek is somehow the one who’s supposed to help Hyuna keep Wooseok distracted until Hyojong comes back from the pool as he is the professional hitman and Hwitaek doesn’t know how to fire a gun.

Hyuna’s pantry is quite nice though. Fully stocked of food and Hwitaek kinda wants to eat some, but that would not be a smart decision at the moment.

Wooseok got back at around four am and Hyuna was already in bed by then. Hwitaek and Hyojong had hid in the pantry together until it hit six am and it would be light enough for Hyojong to get into the pool. It was really weird with Hyojong only standing in his swim trunks and no shirt while Hwitaek is dressed in the same clothes he wore last night.

They had gotten bored pretty fast and started playing twenty questions with each other because what else are they going to do. They don’t really like each other, but they have a common enemy at the moment, so they were civil.

Hwitaek ended up asking about Hyojong’s earring and he admited to be bisexual, which is something Hwitaek didn’t really expect as he is also bi. Hwitaek has a male lean while Hyojong has a female lean and they at least got some sort of mutual understanding after that.

Hyojong had asked if Hwitaek had any other piercings like Jiyoon and Hwitaek had stuck his tongue out at Hyojong who blushed. It was quite amusing from Hwitaek’s perspective.

But now, Hyojong is playing fish in the pool and Hwitaek is bored out of his mind. Wooseok and Hyuna haven’t woken up yet, which is for the best, actually falling into plan quite well, but that means Hwitaek has to stare at the pantry wall and count how many boxes of cereal there are. There’s eight, which is five too many even for rich people.

Hwitaek checks his watch, six oh four. How has it only been four minutes in here alone? Hwitaek hears voices outside and straightens up.

“What do you think about just making cereal for breakfast?” Wooseok asks. “I’m still exhausted from that trip and don’t really want to try and cook anything.” Wait— Hwitaek is where the cereal is. That’s very bad.

“I can make something for you,” Hyuna offers. “You just sit at the bar and I’ll make coffee and whatever you want.”

“Could you do eggs?” Wooseok asks.

“Yeah, totally. What do you want in them?” Hyuna asks. Hwitaek can’t help but notice that Hyuna sounds completely different than she did last night. Gone is her confidence and personality, but according to her Wooseok is abusive, so her behavior makes some sense.

“Cheese, peppers and onion.”

“Okay.” Hyuna walks around the kitchen grabbing things and then walks over to the pantry. Hwitaek moves as far away from the door as he can and sticks his hand into his pocket to clutch his pocket knife. He knows it’s just Hyuna, but this whole situation is making him anxious. Hyuna opens the door and gives a tight smile to Hwitaek. She grabs the onion and leaves, careful not to leave the door open enough for Wooseok to see in at all.

“Did you hear that?” Wooseok asks and Hwitaek’s heart sinks. He is barely breathing which means it can’t be him who Wooseok heard.

“Hear what?” Hyuna asks innocently.

“I heard something outside,” Wooseok mutters. “I’m going to go check it out.” Alarm bells ring in Hwitaek’s mind.

“I’m sure it’s just an animal,” Hyuna reassures. “Breakfast will only take a few more minutes.”

“I’m going to go look and that’s final,” Wooseok decides. Hwitaek hears his chair scrape against the hardwood and him walk back to his bedroom. Why the fuck is Wooseok going to his bedroom? Hyuna follows him and Hwitaek can’t hear as well anymore, but he hears the word ‘gun’ and he starts to panic. Oh fuck, Hyojong is completely unarmed down there.

“Are you really sure that’s necessary?” Hyuna asks, the pair of them walking back into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go finish breakfast, I will be right back.” Hyuna doesn’t protest. Wooseok walks over to the stairs and then Hyuna comes back into the pantry.

“Hwitaek, what do we do?” Hyuna asks, voice a frantic whisper. Hwitaek panics for a moment, but an idea comes to him.

“Go to your room and come out onto the balcony. When you see me yell and get Wooseok’s attention,” Hwitaek says. “That’s all you need to do.” Hyuna looks unsure. “Trust me.” Hyuna nods and Hwitaek exits the pantry, careful to walk down the stairs slow enough that Wooseok won’t turn around. He’s already halfway across the living area, nearly to the door to the outside. Hwitaek reaches the bottom of the stairs and holds his breath until Wooseok is outside.

Sprinting across the floor Hwitaek sees Hyojong standing on the edge of the pool, only fifteen feet away from Wooseok. Hwitaek opens the side door slowly. Now he’s ten feet behind Wooseok and twenty five feet behind Hyojong. Hwitaek shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out his pocket knife. The silver playing shines in the morning light and Hwitaek flicks it open.

“Put your hands up,” Wooseok commands. Hyojong does as asked, holding the briefcase in one of his raised hands, dripping water onto the patio. He still hasn’t noticed Hwitaek, but that’s okay, he doesn’t have to. “I can’t believe that out of all the people who work for me, you are the one that betrays me.” Wooseok pulls his gun out to point at Hyojong and he clicks the safety. Hwitaek looks up to the balcony, sees Hyuna standing there and gives her a nod. “Too bad I’m going to blow your head off—”

“Wooseok!” Hyuna screams, getting Wooseok to turn towards her and distract him which is the perfect opportunity for Hwitaek to lunge forward and shove his knife into the side of Wooseok’s neck. He screams and the gun goes off, Hwitaek doesn’t see where the shot goes, but it must have missed Hyojong. Blood shoots out of the wound and Wooseok looks at Hwitaek, and he opens his mouth to say something, but only blood comes out. Hwitaek pulls the knife out of Wooseok’s neck, making sure he’s really dead. There’s no pulse, no breath, no nothing. Just blood pouring out of his neck and mouth onto the ground. Hwitaek looks down at his hands and sees that he’s covered in blood up to his elbows.

Hwitaek looks over to Hyojong, who is completely unscathed, staring at Hwitaek with shock in his eyes. The two come together, Hwitaek’s bloody hands cupping Hyojong’s face who holds the briefcase still and uses his other hand to hold Hwitaek’s waist.

“I can’t believe you saved me,” Hyojong mumbles.

“I had to,” Hwitaek admits. Captain Lee told him to use the pocket knife to save his own life, but Hwitaek used to save anothers which is arguably more heroic. The two stare at each other in complete shock for a moment, then Hyojong presses his mouth to Hwitaek’s. He doesn’t actually mind the kiss, in fact, he likes it quite a bit more than he’s willing to admit.

Hwitaek’s hands move back to Hyojong’s hair and his tongue slips into Hyojong’s mouth, the two of them getting far too into it than what is appropriate at six sixteen in the morning. Hyojong pulls them apart, heaving slightly.

“Who knew this is how I would have my first kiss with a guy?” Hyojong asks cheekily. But before Hwitaek can reply, Hyuna yells down to them.

“Can you two do that another time? We have places to be,” Hyuna reminds them and they split apart fully, eyes back on Wooseok’s lifeless body. Good riddance, in Hwitaek’s opinion. They walk past Wooseok and back inside.

“What do we do now?” Hwitaek asks.

“You two need to shower first off, then I suppose we can all drive out to the airport and find somewhere else to be because sooner or later the LA cops will find his body, and then his minions might try to solve the case as well,” Hyuna says. “We don’t have to stick together any farther than that, but we can get as much money as I can out of Wooseok’s accounts and then we take Hyojong’s car to the airport.”

“Where do we fly to?” Hyojong asks. “I know we might not want to stick together, but the first flight is the most traceable. So we fly somewhere together, then go somewhere else, then split. Like we go to Jamaica and then fly to the UK then take trains into completely different parts of Europe.”

“That’s not a half bad idea,” Hwitaek admits, the blood is starting to cake to his hands, so he’s itching to get in the shower already.

“Then it’s settled,” Hyuna declares. “We stick together until we are completely free from the cops.” Hyuna sticks her hand in the middle and Hyojong sticks his on top of hers and Hwitaek does the same. “To freedom.”

**PRELUDE TO HYUNA JUNG & THE POWER OF FEMINISM **

Hyuna would never say to Wooseok’s face that she hates their marriage, but surely he must know by now. It’s mostly his fault anyway. They never do anything that couples do together anymore and it’s fucked up. Hyuna is trapped in a loveless marriage with no hope of divorce.

She can’t even cheat or else Wooseok will do something drastic to whoever she sleeps with. That makes it so no one ever wants to even try to get with her. They’re all too afraid of Wooseok.

Bed death aside, Hyuna hates it here. Her house is pretty and she has infinite money, but also the second she speaks out about anything, she’s striked across the face.

Hyuna is laying across her couch with her feet propped up on the back, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating life. It’s really not fun. No wonder philosophers are all so depressed.

The front door opens and Hyuna immediately throws her feet off the couch back and sits up straight. This sucks. Like majorly sucks. Wooseok isn’t even supposed to come home today. He’s supposed to leave for Burbank and then come back early tomorrow morning. What he’s doing out there, Hyuna has no clue and she’s not about to ask.

“Hyuna?” Wooseok calls.

“I’m downstairs,” Hyuna replies. The downstairs of her house is just three rooms, but it’s nice anyway. There’s the laundry room right under the stairs and there’s the main living area where Hyuna is which has glass windows that look out into the backyard with a view of the pool, and there’s the garage on the other side which isn’t kinda lame, but that doesn’t matter because Hyuna can’t drive. Just another way Wooseok controls her.

Wooseok walks down the stairs, comes over to Hyuna and says, “Why don’t we go in the pool together? I have this briefcase I need to store there anyway.” In his hand is the very briefcase. Hyuna is always curious what Wooseok has that he trades in which is so important and valuable, but she never asks.

“Okay,” Hyuna replies. It wasn’t even a question to begin with, but the pool is fun to swim in anyway, so that’s a bonus to this. They both walk back upstairs together with Hyuna trailing behind Wooseok.

Through the living room and past the kitchen to their bedroom. Hyuna isn’t even sure if she’s supposed to strip in this room or change in the bathroom, so she goes to the closet and grabs her red one piece.

Popping out of the closet, Hyuna can see that Wooseok is getting dressed in the main room. Maybe she should just change in here. Hyuna sighs, removing her pants and shirt. Then off comes the bra and underwear.

Hyuna’s belly button piercing shines under the LED closet lights. She looks at herself in the mirror— she’s really not ugly or anything. In fact, she’s quite pretty, but still not good enough for Wooseok. He really could have all of this, but doesn’t want it for some reason.

Hyuna sighs and pulls her red one piece on. Her belly button pushes out on the fabric a little bit, but barely noticable. Wooseok doesn’t know about the piercing as she got it impulsively several weeks ago, but hopefully he doesn’t say or see anything.

“Are you almost ready?” Wooseok asks.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” The belly button piercing thing is really making her nervous, so she pulls her hair so it falls over her shoulders. She walks out of the closet and sees Wooseok in his swim trunks, still holding the briefcase.

Wooseok smiles at her and she forces one back. They walk out of their bedroom and down the stairs, through the living area down there to the side door that leads out to the patio.

Hyuna steps into the pool and glides out into the middle. The pool isn’t ginormous, but it’s big enough to where Hyuna can swim laps in it. Wooseok follows her and then swims right past. He dives to the bottom of the pool and opens up the trap door under there. He puts the briefcase in there then surfaces.

Why he hides things there, Hyuna does not understand. Safes exist and so do a million other ways of hiding things, but this is creative, she’ll give him that.

“Do anything fun this morning yet?” Wooseok asks Hyuna, both of them treading water.

“No, did you?”

“Two of the guys that work for me got in a bit of a fight at Sally LeRoy’s today. Hyojong, the guy who’s taking you out and Hwitaek, a gambler of mine. They really must have gotten off on the wrong foot as Hwitaek was this close to keying Hyojong’s car, but I convinced him to stop because Hyojong just got back from Amsterdam and that car is his baby. You don’t fuck with a man’s car, y’know. And I know Hwitaek knows this, but he was too pissed to really care,” Wooseok says.

“Wow, that’s something. They probably won’t run into each other again though, right? Because if they do, you might need to separate them,” Hyuna replies. Wooseok chuckles.

“I suppose you’re right. But it’s fine, Hyojong is a hitman and Hwitaek is a gambler. Those don’t really intersect unless the hitman is killing the gambler,” Wooseok points out.

“Yeah, that’s true.” The two of them lapse into silence, only sounds their breathing as they keep afloat in the pool.

“When were you going to tell me about your belly button piercing?” Wooseok asks and Hyuna freezes.

“What do you mean?” Hyuna asks, almost in shock. She really thought her hair covered it enough.

“If it’s not a piercing what the indentation in your swimsuit?” Wooseok counters. “I’m not even mad you got it, but couldn’t you have asked first? It’s not even that hard. Just say, ‘Wooseok, can I get my bellybutton pierced?’” Hyuna is going to snap and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

“I am twenty eight fucking years old and can get piercings on my own if I want them,” Hyuna counters, fuming. Wooseok glares at her, giving her one chance to take it back, and Hyuna knows she’s gonna get hit, but she can’t back down.

The slap hurts less than she expects it to. Her cheek burns the force knocks her underwater for a second, but nothing she can’t handle. Wooseok gets out of the pool without another word and Hyuna feels her eyes sting. This is so fucked.

Hyuna dunks herself underwater, trying to cleanse herself of the pain in her cheek, of Wooseok’s grip on her life. She could have taken the easy way out, but no, she had to be a brat. Guilt forms in her throat, almost choking her, but Hyuna stays underwater. Just fifteen more seconds, ten more seconds— 

Hyuna gasps as she comes up for air, hair in her eyes. She pushes it away and looks around. Wooseok probably hasn’t left yet as he needs to get dressed still. Guess Hyuna is swimming laps until he leaves.

The pool is repetitive and normal and it's perfect for around thirty minutes until Hyuna gets bored. She sighs, climbing out of the pool to sit on the edge. She still hasn’t heard the garage open which means either her hearing is going or Wooseok is still here.

Just then the garage door opens and Hyuna nearly cheers. He’s finally gone again. Now Hyuna has some time before Hyojong arrives. She nearly sprints back into the house, almost sliding on the wooden floor. Back into her bedroom she goes— but wait, she should leave a note for Hyojong.

It’ll probably be another hour or so before Hyojong arrives, but Hyuna always takes a while to get dressed, so it would be polite just to be prepared.

Hyuna pulls out her notepad and sribles a quick note on it. She goes and places it on the front door with some tape and heads back to her bedroom, stepping out of her swimsuit. Hanging it in the bathroom, Hyuna finally gets a good look at her cheek. Man, Wooseok got her good. It’s red and looks to be slightly swollen. Nothing a little makeup can’t fit though. 

Hyuna gets all ready; hair dry, clothes on, and is nearly done with her makeup when Hyojong gets here. She’s still in the bathroom, so she presses on the intercom.

“Hyojong,” Hyuna says into the intercom. There’s a small screen above the intercom that lets Hyuna see into the house, she flicks to the camera that will give her the best look at Hyojong. “Hyojong, I’m on the intercom. Look to your left.”

Hyojong finds the intercom button, presses it and says, “Hi.” He has quite the voice, Hyuna thinks, especially when she can hear him properly.

“Go make yourself a drink, and I’ll be down in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Hyuna lets go of the intercom button and finishes up her makeup to the best of her ability. Not necessarily her favorite look ever, but it’s not bad. Now she only needs one more thing.

Wooseok isn’t the only one with secrets. Hyuna opens the top of the toilet and pulls out her baggie of cocaine. She grabs a mirror and Wooseok’s black card and dices up a line. 

Leaning in close, Hyuna presses one side of her nose closed and snorts the coke with the other. She wipes her nose, making sure there’s no excess by accident.

Time to face the music, Hyuna supposes, wiping her nose one more time for good measure.

**HYUNA JUNG & THE POWER OF FEMINISM**

Hyojong is behind the wheel of his car and Hyuna’s in shotgun, wind whipping through her hair as Hyojong drives. Hwitaek is stretched out across the backseat, refusing to wear a seatbelt. Hyuna has Hyojong’s gun strapped to her leg, hidden under her dress and Hwitaek has his pocket knife still.

“My poor car,” Hyojong whines. “I’m still pissed about that y’know.”

“I’m aware. I’m also aware we have to ditch your car anyway, so I feel less bad than I would have if we had to keep it. I don’t really like riding around in a car that says ‘cuck’ on the side either,” Hwitaek replies. Hyojong looks like he’s gonna say something mean back, so Hyuna put her hand on his thigh. They really can’t fight right now, or at all. They need to be a well oiled machine in order to pull this all off.

“Anyway, turn left here,” Hyuna says, Hyojong seems like he’s gonna try and make the yellow light when they are too far away. “Okay, but stop at the light.” Hyojong hits the brakes reluctantly.

“Happy? Because I could have made that,” Hyojong points out. Hyojong looks forward and his face fills with fear. Hyuna follows his gaze to a man who Hyuna doesn’t know. But Hyojong looks like he’s seen a ghost. The stranger stops in the middle of the crosswalk and pulls out a gun. Hyuna screams and Hyojong hits the gas, plowing right into the guy.

“What the hell?” Hwitaek shouts, but his voice is lost as another car rams them from the side, jolting Hyuna and Hwitaek towards Hyojong. Hyojong’s car spins out and hits a lamp post.

“Holy fuck!” Hyuna is so dizzy, but she knows what happens in movies. The car explodes and kills the people inside. “Come on, guys, let’s get out.” Hyuna grabs the briefcase and stumbles over her own two feet as she gets out of the car. Why the fuck didn’t Hyojong’s airbags go off? Hyojong gets out and helps pull Hwitaek out of the car.

The guy they hit now has a crowd of people surrounding him, so Hyuna takes a quick scan around and spots a bail bonds store. They can hide in there really quick. Hyuna grabs Hwitaek and Hyojong with one hand each and they race down the sidewalk.

They all make the sharp turn and shove into the bail bonds store. Hyuna pauses to catch her breath, resting her hand on her knees.

“Alright, who the fuck was that?” Hyuna asks.

“Hongseok,” Hyojong replies. “He’s my partner— and he’s supposed to be dead.”

“What do you mean supposed to be?” Hwitaek asks.

“I mean we were on a job together and he got shot like six times,” Hyojong clarifies. “For reference— this happened yesterday!”

“You seem to have gotten quite busy yesterday, Hyojong.” The three of them turn towards the voice. It’s a woman with tons of piercings in her face. She’s holding a gun, and pointing it directly at Hyojong. “Your stunt yesterday put Yuto in jail.”

“What?” Hyojong exclaims. “I swear he left and then I didn’t see him at all.”

“He says that he gave you the shot for some chick and then reviving her freaked him out so much that he got high outside the casino, where some cop saw him. So now Yuto is in jail,” the woman explains. Another woman, this one without all the jewelry in her face, appears from behind the first one.

“Jiyoon, don’t worry,” Hyojong reassures. “Yuto doesn’t have any priors, it’ll be fine—”

“—They searched his house, Hyojong,” Jiyoon says. “He’s going to jail for the rest of his life. And there’s only one way to get justice.” Jiyoon clicks the safety right as Hyuna whips out Hyojong’s gun.

“Not so fast,” Hyuna says. The poor man behind the counter looks confused and concerned, but he’s not going to get shot (probably), so everything should be fine for him in the end.

“What are you gonna do, sugar tits?” Jiyoon challenges. “Jihyun, pull out your piece.” The other woman, Jihyun, pulls out her own gun and Hyuna is about to lose her shit. This is such a hot mess. At the very least, Hyuna is trained how to fire a gun. Wooseok doesn’t like her having any backbone, but he leaves her at home and he’s a gangster, so self defense is decently important. Well, he was at least.

“Put your guns down and we will leave,” Hyuna says, she doesn’t even risk looking at Hyojong or Hwitaek, just eyes on Jiyoon and Jihyun.

“Nice try, but I want your boy Hyojong to pay,” Jiyoon says.

“Have it your way then,” Hyuna replies. She already has the gun aimed at Jiyoon, so she fires it and then shoots in Jihyun’s general direction, only hitting her in the arm. One more shot and she’s down. All without them firing once. “Grab their guns.” Hyojong and Hwitaek don’t need to be told twice.

Hyuna holsters her gun and races outside. There’s a cop car over by Hyojong’s smashed up car and the crowd of people still haven’t separated from Hongseok. The cop hasn’t gotten out of the car and Hyuna impulsively decides to run over to the cop.

“Excuse me?” Hyuna asks, frantically pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“What can I do for you, miss?” The cop rolls down the window and Hyuna freezes for a moment.

“Get out of the car,” Hyuna demands, pulling out her gun again. Hyojong and Hwitaek better get their asses over here quickly. “You have three seconds.”

“Let’s slow down, miss,” the cop tries.

“One,” Hyuna says.

“Two,” Hwitaek adds, appearing from nowhere.

“Three,” Hyojong finishes. They all pause for a moment, but the cop doesn’t move, so Hyuna fires her gun right into the cop's face. Sadly enough that was Hyuna’s last bullet. Blood shoots everywhere inside the car, including out and onto Hyuna. Guess it’s her turn to be covered in blood. She shoves her hand in the window and unlocks the drivers door. The crowd of people are looking over but keeping their distance from them as Hyojong and Hwitaek have their guns trained on them.

Hyuna throws the door open and pulls the cop’s body onto the road, climbing in. The whole head rest and back has blood and brain matter on it, but Hyuna doesn’t care. She hops in the car, unlocks the other doors. Hyojong and Hwitaek climb in the back seat with the briefcase and Hyuna drives like hell.

“Okay, what do we do?” Hyuna asks. “We still need cash and now there’s cops after us for completely different reasons than what we started with.”

“I know,” Hyojong says, reaching in between the front seats. “Cop cars have phones in them. I know exactly who to call, but someone has to make up a reason.”

“Who?” Hwitaek asks.

“Kino.” Hyuna knows who Kino is very vaguely. He’s some sort of special agent that works for Wooseok. He makes problems go away, so he might be perfect to call.

“What’s his number?” Hyuna asks.

“I know it,” Hyojong replies, grabbing the phone and starting to dial. “I’m just going to say something went wrong while me and Hwitaek were taking out orders from Wooseok and you got involved by accident, so Wooseok has advised us to get out of town for a few days while he straightens everything out.”

“That’s perfect,” Hyuna says. Hyojong presses the phone to his ear and waits for a moment. The silence isn’t awkward, just nervous. Everyone hears the ring for a moment and Hyuna is sure that Kino won’t pick up.

“Oh, hey, Kino,” Hyojong says. “I’m in a bit of a pickle right now. Wooseok wanted me and Hwitaek to do something for him, but things have gone really wrong and the boss’s wife is involved.” Hyojong pauses, letting Kino talk. “Yeah, it’s a complete clusterfuck, but Wooseok says for us to get out of town for a few days while he fixes stuff. He even wanted me to call you, so he can start right away.” There’s another pause, and Hyuna is worried. “Okay great, we will be there in fifteen minutes or so.” Hyojong hangs up the phone.

“What’s going on?” Hwitaek asks. “Because this car looks like a murder scene and so do the three of us.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you shoot a cop in broad daylight,” Hyojong replies, snorting.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Hyuna counters. “Because no one else had a better plan.”

“No, you’re in the clear. Just get on the freeway and flick the siren on. Drive as fast as you want, people will get out of your way. Then take exit 5B. Once you’re off the freeway, turn the siren off because we’ll be going into a residential neighborhood,” Hyojong directs and Hyuna nods, flicking on the siren. Hyojong is right, everyone gets out of her way and she steps on it as fast as she dares.

Following Hyojong’s directions aren’t hard and Hyuna doesn't even hit any cars as she zips through them. Exit 5B is much closer than she realizes and once she’s on the off ramp, she flicks the siren off.

“Left turn, Clyde,” Hyojong says.

“That’s a really old reference,” Hwitaek comments.

“But it’s still relevant since you got the reference,” Hyojong points out.

“Touche.”

“Where do I go now?” Hyuna asks.

“Follow the road until you hit Rosemont, then turn right and it’s the dark blue house,” Hyojong says.

“How are your directions so good?” Hwitaek asks. “I barely know how to get from my house to Sally LeRoy’s. Hyojong laughs. “I’m serious.”

“I’m just amused, leave me be.”

“Okay, quit flirting back there,” Hyuna says, making a pretend puking noise.

“Would you rather we flirt with you instead?” Hwitaek asks, causing Hyojong to laugh again. Hyuna doesn’t dignify that with a reply, instead focusing on the road and watching the street signs. Once she gets to Rosemont, she turns right like directed and parks in front of the third house, the dark blue one like Hyojong said.

“Is this the place?” Hyuna asks.

“Yep,” Hyojong replies, popping the P. They all climb out of the car and see just a mess they all are. Somehow the briefcase doesn't have nearly as much blood on it as the three of them do. Hwitaek's hand is a stark contrast to it, Hyuna notices since Hwitaek is the one carrying it. Sitting in the car that’s covered in blood really isn’t a great idea if you want to stay dry. But that’s okay, that’s why they’re here in the first place.

Hyojong leads the trio up to the door and knocks. Almost instantaneously the door is opened by who Hyuna assumes is Kino, he’s dressed in a formal suit and tie, dressed to the nines, even though it’s not even nine am yet.

“Greetings,” Kino says. “I hear you three have some problems.”

“That we do,” Hyojong replies. 

“Well, step in here so the neighbors don’t see you looking like you just walked out of a crime scene.” Everyone files into Kino’s entry hall. There’s a staircase right in front of them, a chandelier above, and everything is dark blue and brown. “I’ll admit this is unexpected, but please, fill me in on the problems we have because I don’t really care how you got into this situation, I just need to get you out of it.”

“Well,” Hyuna begins. “We are all covered in the blood of a cop, who’s brain matter is all over the insides of the cop car we stole.”

“I do see the blood issue,” Kino says, giving Hyuna a once over. “What else?”

“We need a different car that we can take to the airport and plane tickets,” Hwitaek adds.

“I see. Okay, I will make a call to see about getting you a car and plane tickets, but I do need to know where you’re going.”

“Wooseok wasn’t specific. He just said get out of the country for a few days,” Hyojong explains.

“Didn’t you just get back from Amsterdam?” Kino asks and Hyojong nods. “How much Dutch did you pick up?”

“Quite a bit,” Hyojong admits.

“Perfect, you three are going to Amsterdam on holiday. Now, we gotta clean this blood off you, but there also isn’t that much time as that cop car will be traced rather quickly. Follow me to the backyard,” Kino directs. The three of them follow Kino through his living room and kitchen into the backyard.

“Now what?” Hyojong asks.

“Now you strip,” Kino says and Hwitaek is about to protest, but Kino beats him to the punch. “Before you complain, this is the fastest way to get you clean. I will start spraying you, then I’ll go make some calls while the three of you finish up.” Kino produces a hose out of nowhere and points it at the three of them in a threatening manner.

Well here goes nothing. Hyuna isn’t wearing a bra, so out come the girls as they say. She’s the first one to strip, taking off her sundress all in one swoop. Hyojong and Hwitaek eye her as subtly as they can (which isn’t subtle at all, she can tell that they’re staring). Hyuna pulls the gun out of her stockings and takes those off along with her shoes.

“Quit staring at me and take your clothes off,” Hyuna says. Hyojong and Hwitaek pretend like they weren’t looking to begin with but remove their clothes as well.

“Okay, toss the clothes all in a pile,” Kino directs and Hyuna grabs the other clothes and the briefcase, then places them off to the side where they won't get soaked. This water is going to be so cold, she already knows it.

The first spray of water hits Hyuna and she nearly screams it’s so cold. Then it moves over to Hyojong who arches his back and whines from the cold. Hwitaek doesn’t move or make a sound, but he’s still twitching a bit.

“Perfect, now Hyojong come take this hose and spray the other two until there is no more blood.” Hyojong walks up to Kino, grabs the hose and aims it at Hwitaek first who glares at Hyojong.

“I’m not going to jump or something,” Hwitaek says. “I can handle the cold.”

“Lame,” Hyojong replies, flicking over to Hyuna without any warning, causing her to screech.

“Warning next time please!” Hyuna shouts.

“You’re the one with the most blood on you anyway,” Hyojong points out. “Turn around and lift your hair up so I can get your shoulders and back.”

“Shoulders and back, huh,” Hyuna replies. “I think there is an ulterior motive here.” But nonetheless, Hyuna turns around and holds up her hair. The water is somehow worse this way, but Hyuna can tell the blood is coming off quickly.

“Okay, you’re good. Now Hwitaek, turn around,” Hyojong says.

“I’m going to go inside and see if Kino has clothes for me,” Hyuna says and Hyojong gives her a quick wave. Hyuna walks back inside the house, immediately less cold.

“Kino?” Hyuna calls. “I’m all clean, but I need some new clothes.” Hyuna walks around the corner and finds Kino sitting at the kitchen counter, talking into the phone.

“Okay, great, thank you so much,” Kino says, then he hangs up the phone. “What can I do for you?”

“I need clothes.”

“Ah, come with me. I keep extra clothes on hand just in case, so I have street clothes for Hyojong and your friend, but I have limited female clothes.” Kino walks up the staircase and Hyuna follows up into Kino’s bedroom.

“That’s not a big deal. As long as they are clothes, I really don’t mind,” Hyuna says. Kino hums and opens up his closet. It takes up an entire wall of Kino’s room and is seventy percent black and white suits. Kino digs around and tosses a dress at Hyuna.

“Try that on and I’ll grab shirts and jeans for the other two. You wouldn’t happen to know their waist sizes would you?” Kino asks, looking around for more clothes.

“I don’t, but I think they are both average sizes,” Hyuna replies, sliding the dress on over her head. It’s surprisingly goth when Hyuna gives it a better look. Sheer sleeves and black velvet for the dress material, quite nice if Hyuna is honest.

“Catch.” Kino throws two pairs of black jeans and two band tees at Hyuna, who tries her best to catch them. “I have one more phone call to make, but give those to the guys outside.” Kino leaves the room and Hyuna follows him, diverting to walk back into the backyard where Hyojong and Hwitaek are trying to dry themselves off without towels and mostly failing.

“I have clothes.” Hyojong and Hwitaek look up and cheer for clothes.

“Nice dress,” Hyojong says, taking a pair of jeans and shirt. He pulls them on easy enough and Hyuna is satisfied with how he looks. The jeans are snug and the tee shirt is a little loose, but overall it works.

Hwitaek takes his clothes and pulls them on, not having the same experience. His jeans are more leg than fabric and his shirt has the collar cut so one side keeps falling off his shoulder no matter what he does.

“Now I even _look_ gay,” Hwitaek mutters and Hyojong laughs. 

“I think it’s quite a look for you,” Hyojong replies. Hwitaek glares, but softens it after a moment.

“Okay, I have some news for you three,” Kino declares, coming outside. “You have a car, but it won’t be ready for twenty minutes or so and you can’t be here in twenty minutes, so you’re going to leave and get breakfast at this diner that’s like a five minute drive from here and then the car will be outside when you leave.”

“Perfect. How do we get to the diner though?” Hyojong asks.

“I’ll drive you. Also, tell Wooseok that the cost of the car and the plane tickets is being charged directly to his credit card,” Kino adds. Hyuna nods along. She feels a tiny bit bad for lying to Kino, but it’s what must be done.

“Ready for breakfast?” Hyojong asks, slinging his arms around Hyuna and Hwitaek who would probably hit Hyojong, but he's holding the briefcase. Hyuna rolls her eyes, freedom is so close yet so far.

**EPILOGUE — THE DINER**

The three of them sit at a booth in the diner that Kino dropped them off at. They already ordered and Hyuna is demolishing a plate of pancakes and sausages. Hyojong is munching on a muffin and some coffee while Hwitaek eats an omelet.

“You look like you wouldn’t like eggs,” Hyojong says to Hwitaek. They are sitting next to each other opposite Hyuna with Hyojong sitting on the inside of the booth.

“What does that mean?” Hwitaek asks, shoving another bite of omelet into his mouth.

“Like, I look at your face and I think you would either be vegan or that you are a picky eater,” Hyojong explains, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Literally how?” Hwitaek sits his fork down and looks at Hyojong.

“I can’t explain it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Hwitaek mutters. “Anyways, Hyuna, are they here yet?”

“They’re just pulling in right now, but I want to finish eating before we leave,” Hyuna replies, looking out the window. A pair of guys are blocking part of the car with their heads, but that’s okay. The black Cadillac is pulling into the parking lot.

“Can I go and get the keys?” Hwitaek asks.

“Go ahead, I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Hyuna comments. “Just don’t take too long.” Hwitaek nearly jumps up and walks out of the restaurant. “So, are we going to talk about that kiss you had with Hwitaek or is this going to be another boring chit-chat filled meal with you?”

“I would _hate_ for us to have boring chit-chat again,” Hyojong says dramatically. “You know boring chit-chat is what makes the world go ‘round.”

“That’s not yes or no. I want to know why you kissed him. It’s been bothering me all morning because you two do not like each other at all,” Hyuna admits, hoping her honesty will convince Hyojong to explain it.

“They say the line between love and hate is very thin…” Hyojong trails off. “And let’s just say that they are right. Part of me wants to punch Hwitaek, but another part wants to kiss him, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Spicy,” Hyuna says, taking another huge bite of pancake. “But anyway—” Hyuna is interrupted by the two guys that were blocking her view of the car standing up and yelling.

“Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!” The first one shouts.

“Any of you fucking pricks move and I’ll execute every one you motherfuckers! Got that?” The second one adds on. 

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Hyuna mutters. “Hyojong, do you still have your gun? I left mine because I was out of bullets.”

“Yeah, why?” Hyojong asks.

“Those two idiots are trying to rob this place. And they are going to try and take the briefcase from you,” Hyuna points out. Hyojong’s mouth makes an O.

“Yeah, that’s not good.” Hyojong adjusts himself and hands Hyuna the gun under the table. Hyuna keeps the gun under her dress but still reachable once the pair come over to them.

“Customers stay seated, waitresses on the floor,” the first one says. “I’m Pumpkin and as long as you do as I say, everything will work out just fine.”

“And I’m Honey Bunny,” the second one adds on. “Now do what we say or else I’m going to have to start shooting.” Like lightning Pumpkin moves over to the kitchen while Honey Bunny screams threats at the patrons, keeping everyone besides Hyuna and Hyojong scared out of their minds.

Hyuna and Hyojong watch as Pumpkin and Honey Bunny terrorize the manager and threaten to shoot him. Hyojong’s mouth turns.

“This is exactly how Hongseok would act around targets, at least in those cases they did something wrong,” Hyojong says.

“As fascinating as that is, I think that needs to wait for a second. I see Hwitaek at the door looking slightly confused,” Hyuna replies, hand on her gun.

“Everyone just be calm and cooperate with them and this will be all over soon!” The manager shouts and Hyuna rolls her eyes. There’s no way in hell they are cooperating with them. Pumpkin stuffs money from the register into a trash bag from somewhere.

“Okay people, I’m going to go ‘round and collect your wallets. Don’t talk, just toss ‘em in the bag. We clear?” Pumpkin asks and Hyuna tries to get Hwitaek to walk back into the restaurant.

“Hwitaek get in here,” Hyuna mutters. Pumpkin goes around from table to table and when he stops at Hyuna and Hyojong’s table neither of them move. They technically don’t even have wallets. Hyuna has Wooseok’s black card still, hidden in the pocket of her dress and she has no idea if Hyojong even has any cash with him.

“In the bag,” Pumpkin demands.

“No,” Hyuna says.

“What do you mean no?” Hand over your wallets and your briefcase too. Pumpkin uses his gun to point at the briefcase that’s sitting next to Hyojong, pressed against the inside of the booth.

“I mean no,” Hyuna replies. “It’s our briefcase and we don’t want to give it to you or our money.”

“Well, this gun says otherwise.” Pumpkin puts the gun to Hyuna’s head, but she doesn’t even blink.

“What’s going on?” Honey Bunny asks, walking up to the table.

“We have some sort of heroes here— acting like they don’t have to give their shit up,” Pumpkin explains.

“Shoot them in the face,” Honey Bunny replies like it’s nothing and Hyojong bursts into laughter. “What’s your problem?” Honey Bunny swings his gun around to point at Hyojong who can’t stop laughing.

“It’s funny how you think that this is the first time either of us have had guns pointed at us. Or even that this is the closest brush with death we’ve had in thirty six hours,” Hyojong says which throws the two of them off.

“What do you—” Pumpkin can’t finish his sentence before there’s a gun against his head.

“Don’t move,” Hwitaek says. Honey Bunny points the gun at Hwitaek and Hyuna pulls out her gun, pointing it at Honey Bunny.

They all stare at each other, guns pointed, except for Hyojong who sips his coffee with no issues.

“Quit causing problems, you’ll get us all killed! Give them what you got and get them out of here,” the manager yells from the floor.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut, this isn’t your business,” Hyuna yells back, eyes still trained on Pumpkin.

“I’m counting to three, and if your hand ain’t off that case, I’m gonna unload right in your fucking face. Clear? One… Two… Three.”

Hyojong puts the briefcase on the table and says, “There’s a reason we want to hold onto this so badly.” Hyojong pops open the case, so Hyuna can’t see inside but Pumpkin, Honey Bunny and Hwitaek can. The three of them gasp.

“Is that what I think it is?” Pumpkin asks, in complete disbelief. Hyojong nods, then slams the briefcase shut and produces Hyuna’s gun from earlier, shoving it under Pumpkin’s chin.

“Move, I dare you,” Hyojong says. “You have no idea who you are messing with.” Honey Bunny presses his gun right to Hyojong’s skull.

“Let him go. I’ll blow your fucking head off. You’re gonna drop dead,” Honey Bunny says.

“See that’s not what we are going to do,” Hwitaek adds on, pulling out his pocket knife so the gun points at Honey Bunny, but the knife is right next to Pumpkin’s neck. “Everyone will be fine if you all chill out. Honey Bunny and Pumpkin, you will both be fine if you don’t fuck around. Now what are your real names?”

“Shinwon,” Pumpkin says.

“Yanan,” Honey Bunny says.

“Are we cool? Because I have weapons pointed at both of your necks right now,” Hwitaek points out. “But me and my friends here have no plans to kill you. All we want is for you to drop the bag and your guns on the table then walk away.” Pumpkin does as Hwitaek says and Hyuna grabs the gun from the table while Hyojong grabs the bag, dropping his gun.

“Can I walk away now?” Shinwon asks.

“Let him go or I’m really going to blow your head off,” Yanan threatens.

“Chill the fuck out,” Hwitaek says. “When you act like that, it makes me want to shove my knife right into your precious Pumpkin’s neck. You think I won’t do it, but I’ve already done it once today.” That freaks Yanan out. He backs away a little bit, but still keeps the gun trained on Hwitaek.

“You’re lucky we’re turning over a new leaf or else both of you would be dead by now,” Hyojong comments offhandedly.

“Now if you both run out of here in five seconds, you won’t get shot. After that it depends on how I feel,” Hyuna adds on, cocking her gun for good measure. Shinwon and Yanan glance at each other for a second then they are fleeing out of the restaurant.

“I think we should do the same,” Hwitaek mutters, putting his weapons away. Everyone still isn’t moving, much too afraid to.

“I didn’t get to finish my pancakes though,” Hyuna whines. “But you’re right, we have a plane to catch boys.” Hyojong and Hyuna get up from the table and the three of them link arms and walk out of the restaurant without another word.

**Author's Note:**

> if anything confused you or didn't make sense leave a comment and I'll clarify it :)


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